


Nuda Veritas

by AlicienneOfTarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jaime needs love, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlicienneOfTarth/pseuds/AlicienneOfTarth
Summary: Jaime meets Blue in a Club of King’s Landing and found himself wanting to spend the night with her. She’s tall, she’s clumsy and she’s a mystery, but most of all, she refuses to tell him her name.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 315
Kudos: 329





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hope everyone is well and safe. During my eternal lockdown I started writing this. I don't know where this will go, I just needed to write it. It should be a short story, but again, we'll see.  
> English is still not my first language(sadly), I still not have a Beta(sadly), the mistakes are all mine.(yay)  
> The header is made by my beautiful friend Silvia, thank you for everything.

  
  


_Carve your name into my arm,_

_Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed._

  


The light of the Connington Club was dim, the air smelled of cigarettes and low quality leather. There was an oppressive sadness, a sense of misery shared between those four walls that kept every possibility of joy away. He sensed that lure while walking the chaotic streets of King’s Landing, the rain messing gently his hair, no place to go. He entered in the Club, a techno music in the background, not low enough to be ignored, not high enough to make him forget.

_You’re the biggest disappointment in my life._

He ordered a Whisky, while he scanned the place like he was in search of something, he still didn’t know the nature of that something. There were some women, go-go dancers, on the platform at the centre of the room, each one dressed in underwear, high heels, bright coloured wigs on their heads, they were swirling seductively around the lap dance pole, but he soon found out that nothing was stirring inside him, like the pain had numbed every gram of possible pleasure.

“The Sevens fuck me, look at that one.” He heard the man sitting opposite to him saying.

“No fucking way, is that a man?” His friend replied, loosening the tie around his neck. The irony of that fake elegance unnerving him. “Imagine being chocked by those legs tho, could be a story to tell.”

“If you would be still alive to tell it.”

Their coarse laughter echoed in the place, louder than any other sound and he found himself strangely annoyed.

“That freak would be the one begging you to fuck her.”

He ignored the men, focusing on the victim of their jests. She was dancing on a small platform in the corner of the Club where the light was almost insistent, the wall hiding her partly from the view, like she was trying to disappear gracefully in the room, thing impossible giving her height and build.

He probably would have called her a man himself if the pain hadn’t weakened his bluntness.

He gulped down his Whisky and ordered another, then, glass in hand, he left the counter, walking until his feet stopped in front of her. He sat on a burst armchair, his eyes seemed unable to leave her body, not understanding the reason behind his attraction, curiosity perhaps. Her eyes were closed while she danced, her blue hair fell straight, touching her shoulders in a long bob, full bangs covered her forehead. She wore a corset, it was rigid, something made of latex and a miniskirt of the same material. High heels boots completed the look.

Everything was blue.

She was absurdly tall and absurdly clumsy. No trace of sensuality in her movements, not a hint of seduction or finesse, her red lips tightened in an unattractive line, until something strange happened. She opened her eyes, probably sensing the insistence of his gaze on her and the moment he saw them, he felt the Whisky burning harder in his throat, his breath stuck, his senses accentuated somehow. Her eyes were impossibly blue, making every other thing surrounding her pale in contrast. The awareness of being watched made her even more graceless, out of time, uncoordinated, but her eyes were still fixed on him, challenging.

She curled a leg around the pole, awkwardly, but he felt a hint of arousal tightening his jeans.

Her calf was muscular, every inch of her body was muscular, hardly feminine and this made him hate his reaction even more.

“What’s your name?” He found himself asking her, leaning toward the platform.

She contemplated his question for some seconds, like she was thinking carefully about the answer. “My name is Blue.” She said at the end, her voice deep, yet insecure somehow. “What’s yours, handsome?”

He found out he was annoyed with the term of endearment, he seemed fake coming from her mouth, from her appearance. “My name is Jaime.”

“Hi Jaime, what can I do for you?” She said, her voice forcedly sensual.

“I want to know your name.” He asked her again.

She looked around the place, like she was searching for someone and then her eyes found his again. She left the pole then, sitting on the platform, right in front of him. Her legs were slightly apart and when his eyes lingered between them, betraying him, she closed them abruptly. He noticed a blush forming at the base of her neck, covering her chest.

It was pleasant.

“My name is Blue.” She said mechanically.

“I want to know your real name.”

“My real name is Blue.”

He sighed, annoyed, staring at her until she dismissed his gaze, lowering her head. “What do you want, Jaime?” She asked again.

“You don’t belong here, don’t you?”

“Where do you belong, Jaime?”

“Nowhere.”

Her eyes immediately found his again and he could see a flash of sadness crossing them. He felt it then, clearly. He saw it in the blush that seemed to blow her cover, intermittently, in that excessive make up all over her skin altering her features, in the intake of breath every time he challenged her with his renewed bluntness, in her graceless movements betraying her inexperience.

But if on one hand he felt satisfied with his epiphany, on the other he wanted more, it was like he needed an ulterior proof to unmask her charade.

“What are you wearing under that?” He asked then, pointing at her skirt, his finger almost brushing the material.

She retreated a little, his question made her uncomfortable, he could sense it and he smirked, not hiding his satisfaction.

She was quick to regain her composure, flattening the skirt on her legs in an almost childish gesture. “You have two options.” She said, biting her bottom lip. “Lace or nothing.” She whispered.

She was so bad at this, he almost wanted to laugh, but her voice mixed with the clearness of her eyes made his cock stir. “Which one do you prefer?” She asked again.

“The true one.”

“Then I guess you’ll never know.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find it out later.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“I won’t pay.”

Her nostrils flared while she tried to calm her erratic breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first with the only purpose to interrupt her.

“Have you ever desired a costumer?” He asked again, wanting to feed her rage. 

“Yes.”

“Lies.” He said, smiling. “Do you desire me?”

“No.”

Her eyes glancing imperceptibly at his lips.

_Lies, lies again._

“I want you to tell me your name.”

“Blue.”

“Don’t mess with me.”

“My name is Blue, plain Blue.”

“Then give me something true, give me something, Blue.”

She looked at him in silence and he tried to find an answer in her eyes, the only part immune from her charade.

“Truth is fire and to speak the truth means to illuminate and burn.” She whispered.

He frowned, surprised by her words. “What is it?”

“Nuda Veritas, It’s a painting.” She said and for a moment he saw a hint of smile on her face. “There’s a woman who stands totally naked just holding a mirror in her right hand, pointing it towards the viewer.”

He noticed her voice was different, there was a dreamy undertone, something naive, something innocent. He wondered if she was aware of having given him something real, without wanting it.

“What does it mean?”

“I think you can find it out yourself, can’t you?”

And that naivety was gone.

“Hey Blue, move that ugly ass, you are not paid to annoy customers, nobody gives a fuck about your miserable life, go on with the dance.” A man yelled from the counter.

She stood up abruptly, on the verge of losing her balance for a moment.

“What time do you finish?” He found himself asking her, without a reason.

She shook her head. “Leave it.”

“What time?” He insisted, feeling suddenly the need to shake her from her apathy.

“Go away, please.”

Once again her voice told him a thing, her eyes another.

He didn’t go away, he decided to wait for her outside, he didn’t want to ask himself why. The rain had stopped, leaving that pleasant humid smell after a spring storm. He had entered in the Club with the idea to drink his pain away, but he found himself dazed by a different numbness.

_Nuda Veritas._

He took his phone, opening the internet research, he typed the painting’s name and he was about to press Enter when he changed his mind, putting his phone away, shaking his head.

“Get a fucking grip.” He muttered to himself.

Thirty minutes later he heard some voices arguing, coming from the retro of the Club. He followed them, stopping a few feet from the scene, hiding behind the corner. She was there, the same outfit, the same disguise and once again he couldn’t look away.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that again.” The same man had been yelling at her before was now threatening her.

“Relax, Red.”

She was calm, emotionless in front of that aggression. He wondered if she was used to it and the thought made his stomach turn.

“You just need to shake that ass, don’t talk with a costumer again.”

“Or what?”

_No, she wasn’t scared, just tired._

“You know what, stupid cow.” He spat, stopping a few inches from her. Her fingers closed around his neck, her movements firm, secure, until she flattened the man against the wall behind him. “Don’t you dare.”

“Is there any problem?” Jaime said suddenly, approaching them, trying to ignore the absurdity that was happening inside his jeans.

“Great.” He heard Blue muttering under her breath, releasing Red.

“It’s ok, Jaime, I can handle it.”

“Oh, is it Jaime, now?” Red asked amused. “Fucking stupid freak.”

In a blink he found himself gripping the collar of the cheap shirt that Red was wearing, throwing him against the wall again. “Apologize.” He said, his voice low.

“Jaime, there’s no need..” She said weakly.

“Yes Jaime, there’s no need..the cow is not worthy.”

Then he punched him, his knuckles hard against his jaw, some blood covering his hand. The abrupt gesture awakened him somehow, he almost felt his own blood singing, boiling in his veins.

“You both better disappear from my eyes before I call the fucking police.”

Blue walked toward him, grabbing him by his arm. “Let’s go away.” She said under her breath.

He started moving, feeling his knuckles throbbing. “Fuck.” He said, covering his fist with the other hand.

She sighed, still guiding him. “Why did you do it? You didn’t have to do this, I told you.”

“Well, you are very welcome.”

“Really Jaime, I was handling it.”

“No, you were letting him insult you.”

“You don’t understand.” She said in a whisper.

“Where are we going?”

“You need to put some ice on that, my apartment is near.”

He ignored an inexplicable thrill of anticipation. “I told you I wouldn’t have to pay.”

She stopped abruptly. “You know what? Never mind, find the ice yourself.” She said, stepping away.

“Oh come on, I was kidding.”

She met his eyes, studying him. He noticed her arms were covered in goosebumps.

“Take this.” He told her, handing her his leather jacket.

She looked at it, probably surprised by his kindness and almost tempted to accept it for a moment. “No, I’m fine like this.” She said at the end.

“Gods, you must be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” He said, throwing his jacket against her chest. She took it, wearing it in silence. “Well, thank you.” She said sarcastically.

“The dullest too.” He muttered. 

They started walking in silence, but he sensed her presence strong and calm next to him.

Her blue wig bumped restlessly on her shoulders with her firm pace, his hand dripped blood on the asphalt.

The leather of his jacket now worn by her brushed against his bare arm and he felt the need to prolong their contact at every step. “Will you tell me your name, now?” He asked her eventually.

“You already know my name.”

“Fine, Blue.” He said, emphasizing her name in what he hoped was an unnerving way. “What the hell are you doing in that place?”

“Working.”

“Why there?”

“It’s close to home.”

“Funny.” He said exasperated. “Why do you let him treat you like that?”

She stopped, turning toward him. “Listen, let’s make this clear. I’m going to put some ice on that hand and then you’ll go away and we will never see each other again.. so why do you even care?”

That hurt because there was a small part of him, growing bigger at every new inflexion of her voice, at every meeting of their eyes, longer than the previous one, that already needed her.

_You’re the biggest disappointment of my life._

He hated his weakness in that moment, he hated that his broken soul wanted her hand still gripping his arm, her steps taking him no matter where.

“Ok.” He said at the end, noticing her eyes softening at his tone, they were astonishing, no lie could disguise them.

“Jaime?” She called him out of his reverie. He looked at her, asking her silently to give him anything to cling to. “Thank you.” She said then.

She started walking and he followed her. 


	2. Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind response to the first chapter, I have to say, I was going to post this story as an OS, now I think I'm considering the idea of turning it into a longer multi-chapter so things are slowing down a bit, but I hope you like it anyway.  
> English is still not my first language, I apologize in advance.
> 
> So, there's a lovely girl, Carina, who's reading this story and surprised me with this beautiful header. Thank you so much <3

  


_And I long to be carried on,_

_Just once to be lifted strong_

_Out of the loneliness and the emptiness.._

_Of the days._

* * *

  


  


_Isle of Tarth._

  


_She didn’t like going to the horse fair._

_She loved horses, she had a stuffed one, its name was Ser Duncan like the protagonist of her favourite book, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, that his father used to tell her before sleeping; But going to the fair meant leaving home and she hated leaving home. At least Ser Duncan was with her during the long road trip and she hugged it against her chest, hiding her nose in its mane._

_It smelled of lavender because she had washed it that morning, just before leaving, using her mother’s essential oil._

_Her mother had died a year before, she always smelled of lavender. She sighed, the air from her nostrils messing the horse’s mane._

_“What is it, little star?” His father asked her._

_“I don’t want to go.” She replied, her words muffled by Ser Duncan._

_His father chuckled. “But you love the fair, you always have fun when we go there.”_

_It wasn’t a lie, she loved the duckling pond at the end of the shells’ trail, she loved feeding the little goats and eating cobs around the fire, but the fair was far, too far from home._

_“But it’s far.” She said._

_“It’s just an hour, Brienne, it’s not far.”_

_“But I miss home already.” She said, “what if you don’t remember how to come back? What if we lose the way?”_

_His father hid a smile before replying. “I want you to do this for me, little star. Every time you’ll leave home and you’ll feel homesick, I want you to look at the moon.”_

_“Why?” She asked curious, her eyes widening._

_“Because, no matter where you are, the moon will always be the same, so it’ll be like taking a piece of home with you, everywhere you go.”_

_She stayed in silence, contemplating his father’s words. “The moon at the fair is the same as the moon we have at home?”_

_“Of course it is.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me before?”_

_His father chuckled while she shook her head, annoyed. She hugged Ser Duncan tight, smiling against it. She couldn’t wait to pick the yellow flowers at the foot of the hill and feed the little goats and if she had felt sad, she would have looked at the moon._

* * *

  


The moon was the only light illuminating the back streets of King’s Landing and he watched absently the way it played on her skin, making it translucent somehow. Her skin was pale, maybe too pale, he had noticed it while he was staring at her legs, trying to keep up with her firm pace. He wondered if she was some strange creature coming from the moon to annoy him and bewitch him at the same time.

They kept walking in silence.

It seemed a waste to him, all those seconds spent just putting a foot in front of the other when he would have filled them with questions, still not knowing if he just wanted to satisfy his curiosity or soothe the urge of hearing her voice again.

She seemed unperturbed by the silence while her impassivity perturbed him.

His hand was throbbing while he kept clenching and unclenching his fingers, still brushing her arm while walking. Every few seconds he glanced at her, wishing her wig wasn’t covering half of her face from his view. He noticed how her shoulders filled his jacket perfectly, the outline of her biceps visible under the leather. Her body wasn’t feminine, everyone would have mistaken her for a man, that was true, but he felt a thrill of pleasure thinking about the way his jacket was caressing her skin, keeping her warm.

Finally her phone rang, putting an end to that silence and for a moment he saw a flash of panic in her eyes while she rummaged into a shoulder purse, ridiculously tiny compared to her build. She sighed looking at the screen and then glancing briefly at him.

“You can take it.” He said.

She ignored him, switching off the call. He was about to ask her why, but her phone started ringing again and he chuckled amused, while she cursed under her breath. She answered this time, turning slightly, her back to him.

“Hey.” She whispered. “I can’t talk right now.. no, I know.. I just can’t. Talk to you later ok?” There was a hint of apprehension in her voice that made her seem more human. “Are you ok, right?” She waited for the answer and then ended the call, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Who was it?” He found himself asking her.

She stopped abruptly, turning toward him and her gaze, the way she towered fierce over him, made him almost take a step back. “Are you always that nosy or it’s just the alcohol messing with you?”

“Oh no, I barely had two glasses.”

“Oh you’re a natural, amazing.” She said, walking away again.

“So.” He said, ignoring her sarcasm, “since you don’t want to tell me your name, where do you come from?”

“I come from here.”

“Lies.” He responded. “Your accent, your features.. you’re not from here.”

“Are you a detective? I didn’t know.”

“I’m not, but I can tell you more about myself if--”

“Not interested.”

“Well, apparently it’s a long way to your home, we could know each other better.”

“My home is ten minutes walking, I think you can keep your mouth shut for ten minutes.”

“What will you give me?”

“Excuse me?”

“If I keep my mouth shut for ten minutes, what will you give me?”

She stopped again, looking at him but he was ready to hold her gaze this time. Gods, her eyes made every other imperfection almost disappear. “How old are you, five?”

“See?” He said, glancing absently at her lips. “You do want to know me better after all.”

She stared at him for some seconds, her own eyes finding his lips briefly. “Walk.”

He kept his mouth shut for thirty seconds.

He sighed loudly.

“What, now?” She asked and he knew he was already addicted to her exasperation.

“Can we stop somewhere?”

“Why?”

“I’m hungry.” He whined.

“There are some leftovers at my home, pizza maybe, you can have it.”

“Thank you.” He said, genuinely touched. “We can eat it together while you’ll tell--”

“You’ll eat it on your way home after I’ll put some ice on that hand.”

“Spoilsport.” He muttered under his breath.

He noticed that in the last seconds, she had tried to put space between them, like his proximity bothered her somehow. Their arms were no longer brushing each other, and every time he tried to close the space between them, she took a step to the right, escaping him again. “Do I smell bad?”

She stopped, frowning at him.

“I mean if you want to walk on the opposite side walk, I wo--”

“Listen, I’m doing you a favour.”

He was the one frowning now. “What are you talking about?”

“Can’t you see how people are looking at us?”

“People?”

“People are looking at us wondering why are you walking side by side with a giant freak wearing a blue wig in the middle of the night.”

“Take off the wig?”

Her chin trembled for a few seconds and he swallowed, wishing for the first time he could take his words back. “Wait!” He said while she resumed walking. “I don’t care about what people think.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, I’m serious, actually, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Stay away.”

“Oh come on, this is insane.”

“Well for someone like you, maybe it is.”

“Someone like me? What is it supposed to mean?”

“Leave it.”

She accelerated her pace, leaving him dumbfounded for some seconds. Her steps were fast, but he didn’t want to let her go; finally he reached her and suddenly, without a second though, his hand grabbed hers and he interlaced their fingers together. There were some seconds of stillness at first, then he felt a pang of pain when her fingertips pressed against his bruised knuckles in response, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “What are you doing?” She asked in a whisper.

“I don’t care what people think.”

  


She released his hand only once arrived in front of her condo. She struggled to find the keys in her purse, his previous touch seemed to add some nervousness in her movements and he couldn’t stop looking at her, like she had just become his new favourite object of study.

They entered in the small apartment, a faint trace of lavender hit his nostrils.

“Sit down, I take some ice for your hand.”

He didn’t sit down, wandering around the house, it was small, but cozy. The kitchen and the living room were in the same open space. There were blue pillows scattered on the couch, a stack of books on the floor, a painting on the wall, two lovers flying above a city asleep. He realized he could find her here, her domesticity was louder than her silence. There was a framed picture on the side table next to the couch. He took it to see it more closely, it was a landscape, some flowery meadows with an ocean in the background, but what really caught the eye was the big moon in the middle of the sky.

“You come from here, don’t you?”

She sighed, reaching him. “I think I’ll start asking you to do the opposite of what I want you to do, maybe it works better this way.”

He looked at her, she was wearing a cream-coloured robe that left the majority of her legs still exposed, her feet were bare, her toenails painted in blue, but the nail polish was worn.

He bit his lip to hold back a smile. “I see you like telling me what to do.” The truth was he liked it even more.

“Sit down.” She said again, ignoring him.

He sat on the couch and he held her breath when she knelt in front of him, surprising him. She took his hand, inspecting his knuckles, her elbow resting on his knee. She started cleaning his wounds, unimpressed with the blood. Her movements were calm, but firm, just a little wrinkle on her forehead betraying her concentration.

Her calmness owned the magnetism of beauty. 

He hissed at the first contact with the ice. “Sorry.” She whispered, meeting his eyes.

He looked at her, lingering for some seconds on her face, because she had never been that close. Her nose had been broken more than once, he suspected, now it had a strange shape, incoherent with the her features. Her lips were generous and chapped, he could discern the cracks under the lipstick she wore. Her forehead was high, her jaw strong, everything seemed exaggerated, out of place somehow.. until her eyes found his again. Her eyes justified every imperfection, making all her features work in a weird way, like a reading key for an abstract painting.

She pressed the ice with more force on his skin and his thumb circled her wrist in response, finding her pulsing point. “Sorry.” She whispered again. A lock of fake hair brushed her left eye and he reached out to move it, putting it behind her ear. “What’s your hair colour? “

She frowned, not expecting his question.

“Your real hair..I mean.. what’s the colour?”

She seemed to contemplate his question. “Does it matter?” She said at the end.

Her eyes challenged his and he lost himself in them for some seconds. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

“You can do it alone, now.” She said then, leaving the icepack on his hand. She was about to stand up when he realized he didn’t want to lose her closeness.

“My father died yesterday.” He blurted out, his fingers grabbing her elbow to keep her close, surprising himself more than her.

“I’m sorry.” She said, dismissing his gaze and tightening the robe around her.

_You are the biggest disappointment in my life._

“Before dying he.. he told me I was his biggest disappointment.” He whispered, trying to hold back the bitterness in his voice.

“Why are you telling me this?” 

He was angry for a moment, annoyed with her lack of sensitivity. He was telling her about his pain and she didn’t want to listen. “Why?” She asked again, her eyes digging a hole in his chest.

“Because your eyes stare directly into my soul.”

She held her breath for a moment, the now familiar blushing coloured the exposed skin visible through the neckline of her robe.

She sat again in front of him.

“He told me he spent the days wondering when I would become the man I was meant to be.. you know, my family is.. it’s complicated. We have a media and entertainment conglomerate, Lannisters Co. I’m sure you heard about it, and my father is.. well I should say, was, the founder. My mother Joanna died when I was a kid and she was literally the only person that mattered to my father.. since her death he basically lived for his Company, we barely existed.”

“We?”

“I have a twin sister and a brother, we all gravitate around the company somehow, or better my sister Cersei is into politics, she works for Robert Baratheon who’ll candidate to become a President, as I’m sure you already know, and of course his political views are totally opposite to our Company’s ones but my sister has always owned a special place in my father’s heart, no matter what. Then there’s my little brother, Tyrion.. Tyrion is leading the entertain area, you know we have parks, things like that, but well he’s a disaster, he doesn’t deal with responsibilities very well, he’s more interested in women and luxury, but he has a big heart, I always felt responsible for him you know, tried to protect it from the big cruel world..but anyway that’s us and we are all connected to the company somehow.”

“What about you? What’s your connection?”

Her interest warmed his chest. “I’m the natural successor.. or maybe I should be.. My father used to call me the candidate, the chosen one.. it made me feel proud, like I really had a purpose in my life.. but once I started working there, it become a nightmare. He never approved of me or of my ideas, or at least never in front of me. Everything I did for the company turned out to be a failure, I made a big screw up some months ago and he told me it was that disappointment that killed him in the end. Sometimes I think he was right.”

She held his gaze until he could see her own eyes becoming lucid.

“And here I am mourning him, how pathetic.”

They spent some time in silence and he sensed like he wasn’t the only one who needed it. He felt the ice melting on his knuckles, her proximity made him feel warm and safe. She glanced up at him and he tilted his head, trying to guess her thoughts. 

“Blonde.” She said after some seconds. “My hair..it’s..I’m blonde.”

He smiled briefly. “Thank you.”

She raised a little, resting on her knees, until she was at his eye level. “Close your eyes.” She said then, surprising him.

For a moment he had been tempted to tell her he didn’t want to, fearing that she would have disappeared, but he closed them instead.

“Now try to forget everything you’ve just told me and.. go back to your childhood, can you do that? Picture yourself as a kid.”

“What are you, a psychologist?” He said, smirking.

“Shut up.” She said but he could hear for the first time the smile in her voice. “Now think about the happiest memory you have with your father.”

He snorted. “Really?”

“Please do it.”

“This is going to be hard.” He sighed until a small smiled grazed his lips. “King’s Landing United VS Winterfell FC, we were two goals under, we ended up winning the match. I was there at the stadium, it was raining hard, the jeans I was wearing was too short, my ankles were naked, I was freezing my ass off but when.. when we scored the winning goal my father.. he.. he hugged me, he hugged me really tight. It was the only time.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, holding back the urge to reach out and touch her.

“Then I want you to remember this every time you’ll think about him.” She said at the end.

“It doesn’t work like this.” He said, opening his eyes.

“Then make it work.. we always spend time reliving bad memories when we should cling on the happy ones. Shouldn’t they deserve more recognition?”

His breath stuck in his throat and this time he wasn’t able to hold back.

His hand moved, cupping her face, his fingertips caressing her skin slowly. “Tell me your name.” He whispered.

She suddenly stood up, walking toward the kitchen with the only purpose to put some space between them. “It’s late, you should go.” She said, her back to him.

  


He put the ice on the side table, standing up and approaching her. “Let me stay.” He said at the end, not bothering to hide the need in his voice.

“Why?”

He thought about several things to say to her, until he realized, he just wanted to tell her the truth.

He took a breath, staring at her shoulder blades moving at every nervous breath she took. He felt the need to reach out and massage them, to take her tension away.

“Why?” She asked again, turning slightly.

“Because I want you.” He said at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry:)  
> The quote at the beginning is from "The days" by Patrick Wolf, that clearly represents the mood of this story. Please listen to this song and cry with me. SO, what will Blue do now? What do you think? Let me know if you liked this chapter, PLEASE. Xx


	3. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I struggled a little with this chapter, not for its content but because I suddenly remembered I’m not English and somehow, sometimes, I’m afraid to offend someone with my writing attempt. Anyway, I decided to keep writing this story because I don’t like to leave things unfinished. I apologize for any mistake.  
> Enjoy. <3  
> Header by Silvia.<3

  
  


_And I'm dumbfounded by the breadth of your self control,_

_But I don't care 'cause you're here, and you and I both know.._

* * *

  


She stilled, her knuckles turned white around the hem of the counter until she turned to face him. “You want me?”

He nodded, not finding his voice, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Go outside, look around you, the first woman you meet will be prettier than me.”

“I know.”

He was satisfied by the hint of pain crossing her eyes, like a punishment for her stubbornness. “But I don’t care.” He found himself adding two seconds later, because it was like this with her, bitterness and honey. 

She snorted. “Why not?” She asked then, annoyed. “What makes you so different?”

“You are different.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Let me know you.”

She sighed in exasperation. “There’s nothing interesting about me. Look, I don’t know what strange idea you’ve built around me, but no, there’s nothing interesting about me, Jaime.”

The way she said his name, with a hint of tremor in her voice, the blushing covering her neck and the shyness with which she lowered her gaze to escape his, made him close the distance between them. “If I leave now..” He said, his hand resting on the counter behind her.

She noticed it, glancing nervously at it.

“If I leave now, I’ll spend the night wondering how would it be..”

She frowned, almost like she was challenging him to keep talking.

“.. how would it be to be inside you.”

She glared at him then, the indignation exaggerating her features even more and she was so close he could breath in her scent. “How dare.. how.. I can’t believe..this is..I-I don’t believe you.” She stammered, looking everywhere except him.

He held back a smile, approaching her until his lips brushed her earlobe. “And the more you blush, the more I want to fuck--.”

“Ok, you’re drunk.” She said, stopping him with her palm against his chest.

“Not even close.”

“What if I don’t want to fuck you.”

He bit his lip, amused, then he rested his other hand on the counter top, trapping her body. “I don’t believe you.” He whispered in her ear again.

Her neck was red and he wanted to lick her skin there to gauge her warmth. “Then I’m not drunk enough.” She said faintly.

“Drunk enough to what?” He said, frowning.

“To.. I mean you know."

"I really don't.."

She rolled her eyes. "To fuck a stranger.”

“Oh that.. you’re considering it, though..”

“Shut up!”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“You are.”

“I said to you more things about myself in a night than.. to anyone else in a lifetime.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Funny.” He snapped. “Well, then blame yourself because I look at you and it happens.”

“Of course.”

“Because I don’t know..there’s something in your eyes that makes me want to do it.”

“Again, I didn't ask.” She sighed. “Makes you want to d-do what?”

“To lose myself.”

She swallowed, looking for some deception in his eyes. “Do you think it's good?”

“What?”

“Lose yourself.. it’s.. it’s not a good thing.”

“How many bad things have you done in your life?”

She dismissed his gaze.

“How many?” He insisted.

  


She reached out for a bottle of wine to pour herself a glass, he followed her movements but then he stopped her hand, covering her fingers on the glass. “I don’t want you drunk.” He said, looking at her.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to remember how many times I’ll make you come.”

She rolled her eyes to cover her embarrassment. “Maybe I won’t.” She blurted out.

He chuckled. “Then I’ll keep trying until you do.”

“What if I’m inexperienced?”

“Then I’ll keep fucking you until you’ll learn.”

She swallowed. “What if a night is not enough?”

“Maybe it’ll be enough to make me fall in love with you.”

He saw a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Don’t joke.”

“Why should I?” He whispered.

“You can’t fall in love with a stranger, you don’t even know who I am.” She said, pushing him away, finally escaping from his arms. She walked toward the living room and when she sensed that he was following her, she turned around, stopping him with a glare. “Stay there.”

His feet stopped at her voice while his fingers itched, fighting with the urge to touch her, already missing her proximity. He stared at her in silence until he saw her fingers loosening the belt of her robe. He held his breath, surprised by that turn of events. He took a step toward her, but she stopped her fingers. He swallowed, keeping the distance, respecting her command. The robe hit the floor, leaving her in her previous working clothes in front of him. He followed her movements, wishing he was the one guiding them. She raised her fingers to touch her hair, until they closed around the wig she was wearing, removing it from herself. Pale blonde waves now framed her face, almost touching her shoulders. Her hair was messy and so real and he wanted to reach out and burying his throbbing fingers in it.

Her hand then lowered, finding her chest, resting on her breast and he held his breath for a moment. Her fingers slipped under the corset, removing two padded bra cups and tossing them on the floor. Her eyes were challenging him while her chin was slightly wobbling. She was almost totally flat, he could clearly see it now, without the padding. Her hands found the belt of her skirt then, tucking her fingers inside, until she lowered it, remaining in underwear in front of him.

There wasn’t anything sensual in what she was doing, but the more clumsy she moved, the more her movements were insecure, shy, the more he found himself wanting her to never stop. 

She was wearing white cotton panties, no lace, no mystery and yet he couldn’t look away.

She reached for her purse, interrupting his trance for some seconds and she took something in her hand, but he didn’t understand what at first. He realized what she was holding when she started removing the make up from her face. His feet moved then and taking advantage of her distraction, he approached her, stopping right in front of her. She opened her eyes in surprise, probably sensing his proximity and he took the wet wipe from her fingers.

“What are you--”

“Let me.” He asked her, his voice huskier than what he liked.

He tried to be delicate with his touch, almost afraid to break her skin and slowly he removed her make up, hungry for every new inch he exposed, like a restorer discovering a rare urn. He pressed the wipe on her lips and their eyes met when his fingers touched them. Her lips were chapped like he had suspected and his eyes then travelled on her face to store more details, finding freckles on her forehead, shadows under her eyes. He stopped after cleaning her cheek where the contour of a long scar stuck out lightly on her skin.

He caressed it slowly with his fingertips and she closed her eyes at the contact.

He did it again just because he liked her bliss.

“What happened here?” He asked in a whisper, tilting her chin toward him.

“A bite.” She said and her immediate answer surprised him. “Bad memory.”

“Let’s make it good then.” He said, tracing the scar with his lips.

He could see the exact moment when she surrendered, her gaze softening, her fingers closing around his wrist. His lips then brushed her hair, while he buried his fingers in it. He inhaled, smiling against her temple when a scent of chamomile hit his nostrils.

He rested his forehead against hers. “I like your hair.”

She sighed.

“Don’t worry, I hate it too.”

“You hate, what?” She asked and she sounded so defeated he almost wanted to laugh.

“Wanting you, I hate it.”

“Why?”

“Tell me your name.” He whispered instead. “Please.”

Her eyes fluttered and he felt her eyelashes brushing his skin, he kissed the corner of her mouth and was about to find her lips her when someone knocked loudly at the door.

He immediately saw the panic in her eyes.

“Wha--”

She covered his lips with her hand, hushing him. “Please, don’t talk.” She whispered. “Don’t say a word.” His heart was beating fast while the knocking intensified and he nodded silently. She took his hand, but there wasn’t sweetness in her gesture, only apprehension, haste. She led him to what he suspected was her room.

“Stay here, don’t leave this room.. please.”

“Ok.” He said confused.

She left him there, closing the door behind her. He immediately flattened his ear against it, trying to hear pieces of the conversation, but she and her visitor were whispering and he rested his forehead against the door in surrender. He turned then, focusing on her room. He took his phone to make some light with the torch; there was a king-size bed at the center, a small bookcase near the window, some clothes on a chair. He kept looking around, frantically, trying to commit every single thing to his memory, like that was his only chance; he wanted to discover more, to find answers, he didn’t even know where.

A glass door led to a small balcony and he could see the stars beaming from outside.

He remembered once, when he was still young and careless, his aunt Genna had told him he would have had a lot of women in his life, some of them worth the trouble, some clearly not, but then there would have been one, only one he would have named dumb stars with.

He wondered if Blue was the kind of woman who liked to lie down and watch the stars.

_He wanted to name the stars with her, but she still hadn’t told him her name._

He shut out his memories, focusing on her room again.

There was a small side table next to the bed with a drawer underneath. He looked at it trying to fight the urge to reach out and open it, then he sighed, defeated, approaching it. He opened the drawer, there was a box in it and after a few seconds he decided to open it too. He held his breath, realizing its content.

_Who are you?_

He asked to no one.

He took the gun in his hand, inspecting it, like he could find some answers graven on it. There were noises coming from the living room and he put back the gun in the box, immediately, closing the drawer. His movements were hasty and his phone fell from his hand. He cursed silently, crawling on the floor to find it. It was just then, thanks to the strange illumination angle of the torch that he noticed something on the wall in front of the bed.

_Nuda Veritas._

It was that painting, her painting. A naked woman holding a mirror.

_Truth is fire and to speak the truth means to illuminate and burn._

He wanted to come closer, examine its details, but then another thing caught his eyes. There was a folder on her bed, half hidden by a pillow. He walked toward it and extracted the folder, caressing the cover. He opened it then, noticing a big hand-written L. on the first page; he was about to turn the second one when the door behind him opened wide.

“What are you doing?”

He turned, finding her. She was breathing heavily, her eyes huge, the familiar robe covering her body.

She took a step toward him, but he took one back. “Give it to me.”

“What is this?” He asked her instead.

“Give it to me.”

“Why there’s a gun in your drawer?”

Her breath stuck in her throat and she swallowed imperceptibly. “Give me the folder, Jaime.” She said and he couldn’t decipher the cadence of her voice. It wasn’t just anger this time, it was something else.

“Or what?” He asked, challenging her.

She stared at him and he held her gaze, in silence, until his fingers grazed the corner of the page, ready to turn it. He didn’t have time to realize what was happening, because in few seconds he found himself flattened against the wall behind him, her body covering his. His hands were pinned above them, the folder scattered on the floor.

She was breathing hard, her body heavy against his. He was about to say something but he didn’t know what, until he realized he didn’t want to talk, he was tired of asking, guessing, he just wanted to stay there, in silence, feeling powerless under her weight, feeling numb, fed only by the glare in her eyes, a candle in that darkness. His face leaned toward her, trying to capture her lips, but she retreated slightly, escaping him.

His frustration had never seemed sweeter.

His leg moved between hers then and he pressed it against her pussy. She moaned, clearly surprised by his gesture and he did it again, captivated by her response.

He felt her arms bending slightly above them, her grip diminishing while he kept rubbing his leg against her. He was losing himself in her pleasure, in her eyes that seemed bluer due to the lack of make up, until she closed them and taking advantage of her inattention, he spun their bodies, her back now against the wall. She was about to protest when he crushed his lips against hers.

He kept kissing her, increasing his pressure, but her lips seemed ice under his and he retreated slightly, to gauge her reaction, freeing her from his grasp and taking some steps back.

She looked at him in silence, breathing heavily and he wanted to tell her he was sorry, but he didn’t know why. Only then, seeing her wrapped in her fluffy robe, her cheeks pinks and her eyes glossy and so big, he realized how young she was.

And suddenly he felt like he wanted to take back everything he had said to her, his abruptness, his bluntness, his dirty words; he felt like he had violated her purity while a sense of shame tightened his stomach. He was about to turn and leave her because he didn’t know how to deal with that, he didn’t know how to deal with that strange innocence, when she closed the distance between them, she took his face in her hands and she kissed him.

It wasn’t frantic, it wasn’t rushed, it was slow, a little clumsy, but incredibly sweet. He was dumbfounded for some seconds, suddenly unable to react, then his lips opened and she sighed in his mouth. His tongue followed her movements, indulging in her choices because he didn’t want to lead her, he wanted to welcome her attempt. Her hands still held his face, almost crushing it and his palms flattened against the small of her back, pushing her closer. He couldn’t resist teasing her at some point, but she reclaimed his lips again and he found himself smiling in their kiss.

He realized then that she needed that as much as he did.

She pulled back and he was about to protest when she kissed him again, softly, just two small pecks on his lips. His fingers circled her wrists, keeping her in place, because he liked the way she was holding him, like he deserved that sweetness.

“If I tell you my name, will you leave?” She asked him softly.

_No._

“Yes.”

“Promise me.”

He nodded.

“Brienne.. my name is Brienne.”

_Brienne, Brienne..Blue Brienne. It sounded a little dreamy, but real too._

He was about to ask her something more but she tilted her face, looking at him, begging him silently not to. He had promised her to leave her but he couldn’t remember last time he had kept a promise. She gave him his phone and then she took his hand, leading him to the door, but there wasn’t haste this time, only resignation. His eyes were fixed to her hair bumping slightly at every step. She opened the door, waiting for him to go, but he still hadn’t left her hand.

“How’s your hand?” She asked him then.

He had totally forgotten about it. “When can I see you again?” He asked her instead.

“Jaime..”

“Brienne.”

_It was the first time he said her name and it sounded like a prayer._

“Can I borrow some ice again, it’s a long way to my house and it hurts.” He didn’t need the ice, he just wanted an excuse to distract her and when she walked toward the kitchen, he took the pen he saw on the table next to the door, hiding it in his sleeve. She came back, giving him the icepack.

“Thank you.” 

She nodded and he couldn’t help reaching out and caressing her hair once more.

“Good night.” She whispered, ending his affection.

When she closed the door, he rummaged in his pockets, finding the receipt of the Club. He turned it and wrote his number on it, without thinking.

He slipped the tiny paper under the door and left.

He pressed the icepack on his fingers and started walking.

His hand was cold, but his heart felt different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so.. did you like the chapter? I’m happy I have posted this today, considering what was happening one year ago. Let me know what you think, please. Xx  
> (the song at the beginning is "Hold me" by Tom Odell.)


	4. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for all the comments and the support. Longer chapter this time, I hope it's not a problem, but I have to tell you, I'm so nervous about this one, be kind.  
> Can't believe this should have been an OS and now we're at ch4. Anyway, I think there will be 6 chapters at the end.  
> As alway, I'm sorry for any mistake, english is not my first language and it's a long chapter.  
> This time header by my lovely friend Chiara.

  
  


_Hate is spitting out each others mouths,_

_But we're still sleeping like we're lovers._

* * *

  


“That one over there, can you see it?” He said, pointing at it. “Oh come on, over there, next to Dumbo.”

“Dumbo?” She laughed and her laughter was graceless in a contagious way. He found himself joining her, even if there was something distant in that sound, something new he couldn’t catch.

He fixed the blanket over them, not wanting her to be cold.

“Dumbo is perfect.” He said, pretending to be annoyed. “I mean, look at it, it seems clearly a trunk.”

She laughed again, snuggling into his side, her forehead brushing his shoulder. “You can’t call a constellation Dumbo, Jaime.” She whispered, like she was revealing a secret.

“And why not?” He asked, looking at her. She was smiling and her eyes were shining so much he wanted to find a name for them too.

“Because it’s not romantic.”

“Oh and since when you are such a romantic?” He still didn’t know it himself, but that intimacy, having her lying next to him, repeating her name gave him the illusion of knowing every side of her, somehow.

She blushed and his heart beat a little faster.

“It’s not my fault if it has that shape.. stop laughing.” He said, smiling in turn. “Do you prefer something different? Like.. I don’t know: banana, cactus? Or maybe penis.. cock? I mean, I thought Dumbo was cuter.”

She burst out laughing again and he couldn’t look away from her face. He reached out to caress her cheek, wiping away a small happy tear. He thought, for a moment, of having succeeded in making her laugh like that, feeling like a gold digger finding out his first golden nugget in the desert, but then her tears changed, turning into something else; they weren’t happy tears, they were painful. 

“Brienne..” He said, caressing her hair.

She started crying, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer, like she wanted to gain his attention. “Go away.” She said, her eyes fixed on his.

He felt his throat closing at her words.

“Wh-”

“You can’t stay here Jaime, go away.”

“What are you--”

“Go away.” There was anger now in her voice. “I don’t want you here, I don’t need you here.. you.. _you are the biggest disappointment in my life.”_

His own eyes filled with tears, he started breathing faster, crushed by a sense of panic, then she pulled out a gun from the blanket, pointing it at him. There was a feral flare in her eyes that he had never seen before. He was about to say something but he found out he couldn’t talk, no sounds came out from his mouth and the more he tried the more he couldn’t.

Then she pulled the trigger and he woke up.

  


“Fuck” He said to no one. His house was empty, as always, but he didn’t know how to deal well with that emptiness anymore. His shoulders were moving restlessly, following his own breathing while his pillow bathed in sweat.

He covered his face with his hands to calm himself, wiping away his own tears.

He had made that nightmare three nights in a row; the scenery was always the same, their exchange a little different, but then her tears, those cursed words and the shot in that same succession.

She still hadn’t called him and he was trying to ignore that sense of disappointment growing bigger at every passing second.

The thought of her expanded inside him like the first taste of a new flavour on his tongue.

He wished he didn’t know her address, because the temptation of leaving everything behind and going to her in the middle of the night was sometimes impossible to fight.

The first night had been the easiest one, her memory still fresh in his mind, her chamomile scent filling his nostrils, her blonde hair between his fingers; the second night, though, had been harder because he had needed her to the point that he had been scared by his own weakness. He had wanted her after his father’s funeral, when he had felt the world crumbling under his feet and the awful realization of not belonging to that same world anymore.

He needed her now, because he wanted to be soothed by her, by her voice low and deep in his ear, like a piercing caress.

At the same time he wanted to respect her will and a small part of him was hoping she would have been the first one calling him. Because if their connection was like the sweetest torture to him, he still didn’t know what it meant to her.

He spent the rest of the night turning in his sheets, both hopeful and afraid of closing his eyes and seeing her again, then the morning came and he was trying to find a reason to leave his bed when someone knocked at the door.

There was a glimmer of unjustified hope growing inside him while he walked to the door, but then a look in the peephole stopped it.

He opened the door, already smiling.

“Oh good Lord, you look like a stray cat.”

He chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, aunt Genna.”

She marched in the house, opening windows, collecting take out food boxes and shaking her head in disapproval in her way. “You know what does it look like?”

“You tell me.” He asked amused.

“It looks like when I used to throw down your lazy ass from bed because you didn’t want to go to school, except you’re not ten anymore.”

“Except I have nowhere to go.”

“Your father’s testament reading is in an hour.”

“Shit.”

“Language, young man.”

“Oh come on, you swear worse than me when you want.”

“But I do it with more class.” She said, sitting on the couch. Then she glanced worried at him. “How are you holding up?”

“You know how I’m holding up.” He said, sitting next to her.

“Your fath-”

“If this is the moment you start telling me he loved me in his own twisted way, please spare me that.”

“ Fair enough, but there’s not only black and white, Jaime, you know that.”

_No, there’s Blue too._

Her gaze shifted on the table in front of them, almost following his secret thoughts. “Art books, really? Since when you’re an art lover?”

He ignored her. “Remember when he used to take me to the football games?”

“Of course I do, you didn’t shut up about that for weeks. I’ve never seen you that happy.”

“I held my breath for 90 minutes because I was afraid we could lose and that would have been my fault.”

“Jaime..”

“That was the price of my happiness, I guess.”

“Why are you remembering that?”

He sighed. “I think I found her.”

“Who did you find?”

“A woman.. the one I want to name dumb stars with.” He said, looking at her.

“Then why do you look so miserable?”

“Because.. sometimes I ask myself if she actually exists.” He said, then, seeing the perplexity on her face, he added. “It’s complicated.”

“We make things complicated just to avoid showing what we feel, Jaime.” She said, looking seriously at him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it, glancing quickly at it.

  


_You stole my pen._

  


He couldn’t help the smile on his face.

He tried to cover it, looking at his aunt. “I need a shower, we meet there, ok?”

“Ok, little lion.” She said, looking suspiciously at him.

“I thought I was a stray cat.”

“You know, I want to have faith in you, you’re a Lannister after all.” She leaned toward him, kissing his cheek. “Don’t be late.”

He closed the door behind her, the phone already in his hands.

  


_You stole my pen._

  


He stared at it, the stupid smile back on his face. For a moment he thought to answer with a cheesy comeback, only to make her roll her eyes in that annoying way.

Something like _“you stole my heart”,_ but then he simply type her number, because he didn’t have another choice.

When she answered there was silence for a few seconds to the point he could hear her breathing through the phone, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I want to see you.” He blurted out.

“Jaime..”

“Brienne.. I want to see you.”

“I.. I shouldn’t have texted you, I’m sorry.. I--”

“I missed your voice.”

She replied, after some hesitant seconds. “I didn’t miss yours, you really talk too much.”

“Yeah, I believe you’ve already told me that, haven’t you?”

She sighed and he closed his eyes, wanting more. “I.. I’ll read my father’s testament in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say a word, so he kept talking. “I’m pretty sure he changed it some months ago, you know, and.. I don’t know what it can possibly mean.. I’m.. I don’t even know what I feel.”

“Ok.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t care, I don’t buy it.. it’s not you.”

“You don’t know me.”

He thought about her hands holding his face, the smell of her hair, her chapped lips moving shyly against his.

“I do.” 

“I.. ok it’s not that.”

“Then what is is?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t.. right.. tell me something you can do, Brienne.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me you thought of me.”

“Why do you think I’ve texted you?”

He shut down the sense of relief. “I thought you wanted your pen back.”

She laughed and his heart melted a little. “Do it again.”

“What?”

He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking of you, I think of you every minute. I think about your eyes, I think about your skin, the scar on your cheek..your hair.. did I tell you I like your hair? And your legs, God, your legs. I think about my leg pressed against you..you sighing against my lips, the way you held my face, like you didn’t want to let me go.”

“Jaime..”

“I went to the book store yesterday, I bought three books about that painter.. it took me four hours to read the first, I’m a little bit dyslexic, but you know, I thought.. I thought that reading that, I could discover some things somehow, some things about you.. like I could know you through the painting.. but not, I didn’t find anything and it’s fucking frustrating. And then I went to the mall and I bought three different bottles of chamomile shampoo, thing which is, for the record, fucking creepy, but no, none of them had the right fragrance, I couldn’t even guess the damned shampoo but you see, I can’t get you out of my head.”

“I.. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me anything.”

“It’s chamomile and honey, the shampoo.”

He laughed until he heard her doorbell ringing through the phone. 

“Jaime?” She said. “I have to go. Good luck for the reading.”

  


She still didn’t know how much he needed that.

She ended the call after that and he gripped his phone hard, like he was trying to keep their connection somehow, ignoring the stupid jealousy he already felt thinking of her visitor.

Maybe she was engaged, maybe she had already someone in her life, that was all the mystery.

A sense of panic started growing inside him.

He stopped thinking about her, focusing on the testament, but worsening his mood.

A worrying thought insinuated in his mind, but he tried to chase it away.

Some months ago he had made a bad investment that had almost broken his father’s trust. They were on the verge of failure, due to a massive debt that he had tried to repay with a risky investment. The truth was he hadn’t wanted to contemplate the prospect of a fusion offered by Aerys Targaryen, infamous between their environment for his illicit traffics, who would have helped them covering the debt. He had fought with his father day and night until he had demanded him to fix the situation in another way. Unfortunately it turned out his investment had been a failure, worsening their debt and forcing his father to fix the situation in his own way.

He had never wanted to know how, just settling for the satisfaction coming from that failed fusion.

He also knew, deep down, that those events had undermined inexorably his relationship with his father.

After a quick shower, he went out, ready to face his old demons.

* * *

He didn’t remember a lot about the past two hours.

He remembered feeling the heart in his throat during the reading, the smug expression on his sister’s face, the compassionate eyes of his brother, his aunt’s hand gripping his shoulder. He remembered, at some point, asking the notary to repeat it, to read it louder because it didn’t make sense, he couldn’t lose everything in a blink, everything he had fought for, while ignoring how he had never had a voice in choosing it, in choosing his future, his plan. But now, feeling the floor crumbling under his feet, he realized he had started believing in that lie, in that plan, because it had been easier that way, more convenient.

And then that letter, written with the only purpose to humiliate him, to annihilate the last crumb of love he still felt.

He remembered it rained when he left the building.

And then he started running. He ran until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, the rain heavy on him slowing his path. He hoped it could wash away everything, making him numb, emotionless. It was dark in the streets, they were empty too, but he welcomed that emptiness, already knowing where his feet were carrying him, already knowing that there was only a person that could turn that emptiness in something else, something unwieldy. He hated himself because he had wanted to respect her, to protect her mystery, to make no questions, but yet again his feet couldn’t stop.

He was in front of her door, drenched, tired, but with a small sense of relief blossoming in his chest.

He knocked hard, like a hopeless wanderer looking for a shelter.

he did it again when she didn’t answer.

Then she was there, in front of him, a flannel half buttoned and a pair of shorts and he just wanted to kiss her to cover the surprise on her face, he wanted to impose her his presence like it was something familiar, something usual. His hair was dripping on the doormat and she followed the falling drops with her eyes, silently.

Then her eyes met his again.

“I brought you your pen.” He whispered, trying to hold back the tears.

She curled her hand into his shirt, pulling him toward her and two seconds later he was in her arms. He hugged her tight, almost drawing the air from her lungs and he buried his face in her neck, breathing hard, swallowing the warmth of her skin. He felt her fingers caressing him everywhere, her voice hushing him gently in his ear until he realized he was crying. His tears were wetting her skin and he was about to retreat when she pushed him against her again and he whimpered in her neck. “I need you.”

She took his face in her hands to look at him and he knew, at that point, how much he had become addicted to that simple gesture. He rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.” He said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s ok.”

“Let me stay.”

She closed her eyes, sighing, and he hated how much this was costing her, he hated still not knowing why.

“Just for tonight.” She said.

“Tonight.”

“Let me find some dry clothes for you.”

Fifteen minutes later he was lying on her bed, her body cuddled next to his, his fingers in her hair, like it was their natural place.

“I am sorry you had to see me like this.” He suddenly said.

“Like this, how?”

He sighed, flattening the side of his face on the pillow. “Broken, shattered.. like a failure.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispered and there was so much force in her voice he wanted to take his words back.

“We’ve just met and you already saw the ugliest part of me.”

“You saw my scar as well.”

His fingers in her hair stopped for a moment. “What happened with that?” He asked tentatively.

“What happened with the testament?” She asked him, instead.

He sighed, not hiding his disappointment. “My father..he.. he excluded me from the company, he nominated my sister his successor.. he..” He stopped, the words tightening his throat. “I screwed things up some months ago, I made a bad investment to avoid a fusion.. I.. I didn’t want to be involved in some things, let’s say illicit things. He made some kind of agreement with Aerys Targaryen.. he had some act--”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” She said, sitting up abruptly. His hand slid from her hair to her back. She was breathing hard, he followed her movements with his hand pressed on her back. “There was a letter with the testament.” He kept saying, trying to ignore her strange reaction. “He wrote me a letter, it was fucking painful to read it.”

She turned a little to look down at him. “I’m sorry.” She said, her eyes big and so honest, he almost wanted to cry again. “You don’t deserve it.”

He reached out to trace the contour of her lips with his finger. “You can’t know that.” He whispered. “We barely know each other, remember?”

“You are a good man, I can see it in your eyes.”

He swallowed, his fingers moving into her hair. “You make me almost believe it.”

“I wish I could give you more than that.” She said, lowering her gaze, surprising him.

“This is enough.” _For now._

He saw a hint of disappointment crossing her eyes and he felt the urge to take it away. He tilted her chin to make her look at him. “Sometimes I ask myself if you actually exist. You.. you barely talk to me, but you make noise, so much noise in my mind. It never stops.”

“It won’t always be enough.”

“It is now, it will be tonight.”

She nodded silently, lying down next to him. She brushed her arm against his and then her fingers interlaced his.

They fell asleep holding hands.

* * *

He woke up hours later, the room wrapped in darkness, her body warm next to him. He rested on his elbow to look down at her. Her lips were slightly open, her brows furrowing in concentration like she couldn’t find peace, her mysteries following her everywhere, even in her sleep. The shirt had raised a little during the night, exposing her skin, the darkness made it translucent somehow. He tried to look away, resisting to that new picture, but his eyes kept finding her skin, looking at her in fascination until his hand moved, insecure at first, and his fingers closed around a button of her shirt. He waited for some seconds, he didn’t know what, and then he loosened the first, another one next, stopping just under her breasts. He stilled, holding his breath, already fearing of having gone too far, but then he couldn’t help caressing her skin there, lightly, with his fingertips until he saw her eyes fluttering open. He met her gaze for some seconds and when he was sure of having her complete attention, he lowered his head, kissing her skin. She sighed, her fingers interlacing in his hair and he inhaled in her scent, losing himself in her again. He brushed his cheeks against her belly, his beard leaving marks on her paleness and then he unlaced another button.

“Stop me.” He said, praying she wouldn’t have listened to him.

She raised a little, loosening the last button and removing her shirt in response.

He stared at her for some seconds, then his body covered hers, pushing her down on the mattress again and his lips closed around her nipple. She arched, offering him more and he sucked it, mumbling incoherent words against her skin. “I need you.”

She guided his head toward the other nipple and he licked it slowly until it was erect under his lips. “Fuck, I need you.” He begged her again.

“I’m here.”

The realization hit him, awakening him from his reveries and everything became frantic, real.

She removed his t-shirt first and then his boxer, while he fumbled with her shorts. Her cheeks went pink in front of his nakedness and he saw her looking briefly at his cock before closing her eyes, almost ashamed of having been caught. He cradled her face, caressing her cheeks.

“You can look at me.” He whispered. “Never stop looking at me.”

She nodded and he knew he was already hard against her while her hips started moving shyly against his, trying to find a friction. He looked down, she was wearing blue cotton panties this time and he smiled at the little bow in the middle. He met her gaze then, almost to ask her a further permission and she was the one lowering her panties, once again answering him with gestures instead of words.

He held his breath while the last piece of clothing between them was gone.

He kissed her belly a last time and then his head went down and she immediately closed her legs in reaction. “I.. I wasn’t expecting.. I’m not shaved.” She said, covering her eyes with her arm. He took her arm, removing it from her eyes and flattening it on the pillow.

He fought a lump in his throat. “Look at me.”

When she did, he went down and licked her pussy, slowly, following the length of her slit.

“Jaime.” She moaned.

His name had never come out like that from her mouth and he licked her a second time to hear it again, his eyes fixed on hers. “Do you like it?” He asked her, not hiding the need in his voice.

“Do you like how I touch you?”

“You don’t have to do this.” She whispered, trembling.

He sighed against her leg. “You don’t understand, don’t you?”

She shook her head.

“You’re the only thing I want to remember tonight.”

Her leg bent on the mattress and he grabbed it to bury himself in her.

Then there was only her taste;

his tongue fucking her fast at first because he was tired of waiting while his beard on her sensitive skin made her shudder.

Then when he felt she was close, he stopped abruptly because he didn’t want it to end so soon. She was trying to hide her frustration when his lips closed around her clit, sucking it gently, his fingers moving restlessly inside her; and every time she moaned a little louder he slowed down to extend her pleasure, looking at her in the eyes until she begged him to never stop. If only she knew he was living for that night, for her pleasure, trying to find the right definition of her taste and when he flattened her thighs on the bed, covering them with his hands, his nails marking her skin, just his tongue brushing her clit, she came slowly, against his lips, with a desperate whimper. He rested his face on her hipbone, following her release, her hand caressing his hair.

Then she raised, almost abruptly, sitting on the bed and he mimicked her position. He noticed she was trembling and he was about to ask her why when she hugged him, her arms around his neck. He cupped her head to keep her close until he felt her breath changing, her tears wetting his neck.

“Hey..” He tried, but she shook her head, tightened her arms around him, her hair brushing his chin. He caressed her back, kissing the side of her face, every inch he could reach, then he took her face in his hands, to make her look at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

Her lips found his, ending his concern and he kissed her back with the same passion, extending the kiss every time she was about to end it until she sighed against his lips and he held back a smile. She pulled back, studying him, her eyes still lucid; her fingers traced the features of his face, her lips kissed the parts she had just touched, seconds later. She kissed his brows, his eyelids, his nose, until he made a strange sound in his throat, overwhelmed by her softness. He closed the distance between them, biting her neck playfully, stealing a small laughter from her and then he kissed her there, licking her skin, turning her laughter into moans of pleasure. He went down, following the arc of her shoulder and then he turned her in his arms, planting a kiss in the middle of her back. She stilled while his lips danced on her skin. He made her lay down, resting on her belly, and then he looked at her body. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he caressed her legs, following their length from her heels until his fingertips brushed her buttocks.

She was tense under his touch, he could feel it, but he couldn’t ignore the wet stain on the sheet expanding under her.

He covered her body with his own, tracing the length of her spine with his tongue, leaving goosebumps on her skin. He stopped at her ear, sucking her lobe with his lips. He used a finger to penetrate her from behind while he pressed his chest against her back making them lying on their side, like they shared a single body. “I want to reach every piece of you.” He whispered and she opened herself for his intrusion, taking another finger inside her. She turned her face to look at him, panting against his lips. There were sweaty locks on her forehead, her eyes huge and liquid, her lips more chapped than usual and he felt a wave of tenderness. He angled her face a little more, kissing her forehead once and then another time until she smiled imperceptibly.

“You know this is the moment when I tell you we should stop because I have no condoms with me and I ruin the whole mo--”

“I’m clean.” She said. “And I’m on the pill.. if you’re clean too.. we could..I mean.”

He moved a lock of hair from her forehead, smiling softly. “We don’t have to do this. We can wait.”

“I can’t.” She said and he felt that there was more behind that, like there was always more behind everything she said, but he didn’t want to press on that thought.

When she looked at him, nodding, he knew he didn’t need any other answer. 

He penetrated her slowly and she moaned at the new sensation, making him motionless inside her. He was about to ask her if this was all right, if he hadn’t been too raw, too desperate when she kissed him like her world was crumbling too and he started moving inside her from behind. He covered both of her hands, guiding them on her body, one caressing her nipple, the other on her clit.

They moved their fingers together.

They never stopped kissing each other while his hands left hers to grab her hips, pushing them against his to accentuate his thrusts. “Jaime..”

“Brienne.” He found out he loved more saying her name than hearing his own. “Brienne.” He moaned again against her lips. “Brienne.”

She turned, interrupting their connection and then she pinned him down to the mattress straddling his body. I thought she wanted to be in control and he just knew he wouldn’t have denied her anything that night; except she looked down at him, almost not knowing what to do, her uncertainty betraying her nervousness and that turned him on in an unexpected way. He stared at her, palming her breasts, feeling her legs trembling slightly around him. He lifted her hips then to help her, guiding his erection inside her. She hissed once he was inside her again and he reached out to caress her hair, trying to soothe her. Then she started moving, struggling to find the right rhythm at first, until he grabbed her hips, guiding her movements.

And she was perfect.

He had to close his eyes at some point, overwhelmed by the pleasure until he felt her tightening around his erection and he opened his eyes, sensing she was close. She was covered in sweat, her hair messy, her lips parted, eyes closed, mimicking his pleasure; he glanced at the painting behind her on the wall and then at her again and he couldn’t look away until she opened her eyes and he raised, kissing her like it was their last time, until she came and he could feel the sound of her release on his lips. He followed her seconds later, hiding his face in her neck.

They stayed like that for some seconds, listening to their beating decelerating, his fingertips caressing her back. He looked up at her then, searching her gaze while she kept glancing down briefly at him, her blushing covered her whole chest. He couldn’t help but smile, pulling her closer and she returned his smile until a small laughter escaped from her lips. He was surprised by that sound and a few seconds later she did it again, hiding her face in his neck in embarrassment.

“Are you laughing at my sexual performance?” He whispered in her ear. She retreated to look at him, smiling softly. She shook her head, caressing his brows again.

He sighed, making them lay down on the mattress, her body still in his arms. “I dreamed of your laughter.”

“My laughter?”

“Yes.” He said, caressing her back. “We were looking at the stars and.. we were finding names for them..but then..”

A wave of sadness crossed her face.

“How did it end?”

For a moment he thought of lying, of changing his answer. “It ended bad.”

“Sounds like reality.” She whispered.

He pushed her in his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. There weren’t a lot of words after that, just their beating, skin against skin, until she fell asleep in his arms. They woke up some hours later and he succeeded in stealing her a small kiss before she sheltered herself in the bathroom. When he left the bed, he noticed some little red stains on the sheets, but she came out in that moment, covering them with a pillow.

“You should grab some breakfast. Go while I change.” She said, a little tremor in her voice.

He didn’t push her for an answer, doing what she said; he dressed quickly, finding his own clothes dry on a chair.

He realized he could do this, he could give her the time she needed, without asking, without expecting anything in turn, he would have done that if that meant having her in the end, every piece of her.

But when he reached the living room, seeing that same folder coming out from her purse, he thought that a small peek couldn’t hurt, he thought he had the right to have at least an answer, only one answer to build its wait on, like a strange kind of assurance for his feelings. That was why he took it and he turned the first page, without thinking.

_Detective Brienne Tarth._

His heart started beating a little faster.

_Case investigation: Lannisters Co._

He felt his knees going weak and he leaned on the wall behind him. His vision blurred until he could discern some words, some names.

_Tywin Lannister._

_Illegal activities._

_Prostitution._

_Sex traffic._

_Aerys Targaryen._

His breath started coming short while the room spun around him.

He heard her footsteps approaching and he swallowed, trying to hold back a wave of sickness.

"You can take this, as a memory." She said, smiling and holding a bottle of shampoo. "Jaime?"

He swallowed, gathering the last strength left in his body. "You.. you've been investigating about my father."

She stared at him for some seconds. "Jaime.."

"You're making a fucking investigation about my father..about my family’s company."

“Jaime..I"

"Stop saying my name." He screamed. He walked toward her, stopping a few feet from her.

"You played me from the beginning, didn't you?" She was about to reply but he spoke again. "You used me for your fucking investigation, you knew who I was, you knew it from the start."

"That's not true..I..'

"You lured me in that fucking Club."

"You've been the one coming to me..I didn't know."

"You were making an investigation about my father and you didn't know who I was? Come on sweety, I don't buy your fucking naivety, not anymore."

"I didn't mean that.."

"You made me talk about my father."

"I never asked you anything..I tried to keep you away."

"By inviting me in your fucking apartment that same night!"

"That was because you punched Connington and almost blew my whole cover."

"Your cover?"

"I was working there undercover because.."

"I don't fucking care what you were doing, I don't fucking care about this.” He said, throwing the folder in the air, “I don't fucking care about you."

He stared at her, trying to cover his biggest lie and she lowered her eyes, escaping his gaze.

"You know what? You've been so good, I give you that.. so good. All that mystery, the blushing..the scar..that fake innocence..wonderful acting."

"It wasn't a--"

"That whole game about your name.."

"I couldn't tell--"

"That number in your living room with you undressing in front of me, did they train you for that? To seduce me?"

"That was real." She whispered. She was breathing hard, her chin started wobbling in that adorable way, but he found himself not believing in that gesture anymore, like if it was part of her charade as well. "You know what was real?' He asked her, closing the distance between them. "My fingers inside you were real, my mouth fucking your cunt was real, moaning your name while my cock was deep inside you..that was fucking real. All the rest was a lie, it was all fake..did you fake your orgasms too?"

"I didn't fake anything." She whispered. "It was real for me too..it was.." A small tear escaped from her eyes and he hated himself because a part of him still wanted to reach her and take her in his arms. "Congratulations Brienne." He told her instead. "You succeeded in your case and you finally had a man in your bed."

His words had hurt her and he felt a perverse sense of pleasure. "You were a virgin, weren't you? I saw the blood on your sheets."

She was crying now and he couldn't stop himself. "See? I'm good at playing detective too."

"You can go now." She said but her voice was so low he could barely hear her.

He leaned toward her. "You sold your virginity for your fucking case." He whispered in her ear. "Well I have a bad news for you sweety, you can't have it back."

He looked at her, tears were running down her cheeks, but her gaze was fierce. Then she said those two words that had been haunting him for nights in his dreams. "Go. Away."

He slammed the door when he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already hate myself so please don’t hate me too. Omg I’m so sorry, I feel so bad posting this, but I promise you this will be fixed very soon. The song at the beginning is "Still" by Daughter.  
> Tell me you didn’t hate this chapter and leave a comment, please. X


	5. Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story and sorry for the wait. I had to split this chapter in two parts, so sorry, but here we are. This is basically the aftermath of what happened and Jaime dealing with it. There will be more explanations in next one.  
> English is NOT my first language, I apologise for any mistake.  
> Header by Silvia. <3

[ ](https://ibb.co/GCVWq1r)

  


_Your smiling eyes are just a mirror for the sun._

* * *

  


_“She’s naked.”_

_Her mother looked down at her, a patient smile on her lips. “Yes, she is, that is surely the first thing you notice, but look more closely.”_

_Brienne took a step toward the painting, careful not to overstep the belt barrier. Her mother had taught her not to touch the things exposed in a museum, because she could ruin them and she had to be respectful. She looked carefully at the painting. “There’s a snake..there, near her feet.”_

_“Yes, the snake is symbol of deception and it can threaten the Truth, that’s why it’s at her feet.”_

_“Is it dangerous?” She asked in a whisper._

_“Yes, Brienne, it is.” Her mother said and her fingers tightened around her hand. “But look at the Truth, what is she holding?”_

_“A mirror.”_

_“Yes and can you see that she turns it toward us?”_

_“But why?”_

_“Because she doesn’t want us to look at the snake and to be distracted by it, that’s why she calls our attention to the mirror.”_

_“But I like the snake.”_

_Her mother chuckled. “Of course you do, but this painting is called “Nuda Veritas” which means naked truth--”_

_“But the truth can’t be naked, it’s not that usually it’s dressed, I don’t understand.” She interrupted her, snorting in frustration._

_Her mother sighed, smiling, then she knelt in front of her. “It’s an allegory, Brienne, this woman here represents the truth and she’s naked because the real truth doesn’t have filters, it doesn’t hide itself behind a curtain.”_

_“It doesn’t have nothing on her so it’s like it’s naked?”_

_“Exactly, that’s why the woman is naked.”_

_“And we don’t have to look at the snake because it’s the enemy of the truth?” Her mother nodded, smiling. “But why we need to look in the mirror, mum?”_

_“Because you see yourself in the mirror, Brienne, and when you don’t know the truth, you’ll always find it inside you.”_

_Brienne took a step toward her mother. “I don’t like to look at myself in the mirror.” She whispered in her ear._

_“Why not?”_

_“Because I’m ugly.”_

_Her mother reached out to caress her hair. “One day you’ll finally see how pretty you are and how beautiful is the truth you carry with you, I promise you and one day you’ll find someone that will fall in love with you, just looking in your beautiful eyes.”_

_Brienne nodded, feeling her eyes watering. “My eyes will be like the mirror?”_

_“The most beautiful mirror.”_

_Brienne hugged her, believing in her words._

_She didn’t know they would have been her last._

* * *

“Last question, Mr. Lannister.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that.”

“I want to know your..”

He looked around the room, not really paying attention to the man’s words. The neon lights made him squint, while he reached out to rub his eyes, feeling a stubborn headache coming on, his temples pulsing. The room was cold, not only for the temperature, but there was a pervasive sense of coldness between those walls, between that grey furniture worn by the rust. There was a one way mirror in front of him, imposing, intrusive and he found himself looking at his reflection again, like his piercing stare could see what was behind it. “Is she there?” He suddenly asked, his eyes still fixed on the glass.

The redhead man in front of him seemed surprised by his words, but he didn’t believe his act.

“She?”

Jaime sighed. “Detective Tarth, is she there?” He asked again, realizing there wasn’t anger in his voice, just a hint of hope.

“If she’s there, it’s none of your concern, Mr. Lannister.” Detective Gianstbane, he believed that was his name, told him. “Just answer me to the last question and then you are free to go.”

“I don’t fucking care about your question, tell me if she’s there.” 

“I don’t think you’re--”

“Is she there?” He asked again, almost screaming. He stood up then, the man in front of him immediately stood too. “Are you there?” He asked, staring at the mirror.

He was about to take a step toward the mirror when Detective Gianstbane reached out to grip the collar of his shirt. “Make another step and I’ll lock you up.”

“Tell me if she’s there.”

Jaime was breathing hard, his vision blurred, but his eyes was still fixed in front of him. “I didn’t know it. I didn’t know about the sex traffic.” He said, looking at the mirror. “I didn’t know a fucking thing. He swore to me his relationship with Aerys Targaryen was done.. I.. I knew he was a criminal, like everyone in this fucking city knows, but no, I didn’t know a single thing about the rest.”

Detective Gianstbane released him. “You can go now, but be available for the next days and don’t leave town.” He said. “Agent Payne, escort Mr. Lannister out.”

A young man at the corner of the room walked toward him. “Let’s go, Mr. Lannister.” He told him kindly.

Jaime walked, his feet carried his body until he stopped in front of the mirror. He looked at it for some seconds, then his hand flattened against the cold surface.

_Are you there?_

“Mr. Lannister let’s go.”

He took a last glance at the mirror and then followed Agent Payne outside.

He went toward the exit, ready to go home and spend another night in self pity, shutting down his pain, but before walking away, he turned, finding the young Agent still observing him from the door. He was really young, he could tell it, a little nervous, judging by the way he kept checking his gun in the holster, looking suspiciously around him. Jaime approached him.

“Do you know her? Detective Tarth?”

“You should go, Mr. Lannister.”

“Please, what’s your name?”

The boy looked around, checking no one was looking at them. “Podrick, Mr. Lannister.”

“Podrick then, do you know Brienne?”

“Of course I know her.” He said, blushing. “She’s.. she’s amazing, she’s.. she’s the best person I know.”

He felt his heart bursting in his chest like he had been the one being praised by the young man. “Is she?” He whispered.

“I mean, I’ve known her for a short time, that’s true, but her story.. man. She fought a lot in her life, she’s a warrior, Mr. Lannister.”

“What’s her story?”

“I believe you should ask her that.”

  


Except she wouldn’t have answered, because she didn’t trust him, she hadn’t told him her secrets, because he hadn’t been enough, because his role in the play she was leading had been more important. _She’s a warrior._ He thought about the flare in her eyes, her body strong and warm under his hands, he thought about that veil of sadness he had tried to take away since the first moment he had seen her. And then he realized he had given her his heart without nothing in exchange, because every single thing he had felt, every word she had told him, every gesture, had been twisted by his own mind, by his own need, and while he had been busy trying to give them a meaning that wasn’t either there, she had never promised him anything in return.

So in the end, he realized that he couldn’t really blame her.

He felt a lump in his throat, remembering the cruelty of his words, that harshness she didn’t deserve, but his disappointment was still too strong, too demanding.

“Podrick, will you do me a favour?”

The boy nodded, a sad smile on his lips.

“Just.. just tell her I’m sorry.”

* * *

_A month later._

  


He didn’t like to pack up, he had never liked it. It made him feel like he was leaving something, some place he should have belonged to. Except he had never experienced any sense of belonging, mostly to that office, to that company. He should have been sad, filling box after box, but he just felt emotionless.

_There’s a place where you felt belonged, wanted._

A small voice kept reminding him and it was true, despite the odd circumstances, but he tried to remove that thought, because remove her from his mind was his only occupation left. He spent the days trying to erase the insistence of her memory to succumb every night to that, destroying all the small progresses he had achieved during the day.

Because during the night it was easier to forget the ugly part.

_Why did you lie to me?_

He asked to no one, turning in his sheets, until he closed his eyes and he could only see hers, her mouth silencing his questions, her body pressed against his and when he buried himself deep inside her, the rage quickly dissipated, turning into something sweet, slowing his thrusts until his only purpose was to make love to her; and he did that, every night in his mind, his hand around his cock, trying to prolong the illusion as much as he could.

Then he woke up, ready to fight her again.

He closed the third box when a knock on the door interrupted his task.

“Last time I saw you it didn’t end that well.”

“Oh hush you!” Her aunt said, entering in his office. She looked around, observing the empty room. “It’s really over, isn’t it?” She whispered.

“Should I feel sad?”

“It’s not my place to tell you how you should feel, Jaime.” She said seriously. “But the case is closed at least, maybe you can feel relieved, we all feel relieved, frankly.”

Except he didn’t, because a small part of him had hoped that with the investigation still on, he could have had an excuse to meet her again.

It had never happened, though.

“Yay for us, goodbye to the Company, the Lannister name and our reputation are fucked, I almost wish my father was here to see that.”

“It would kill him instantly again.” Genna said, approaching him. “You know, he didn’t know about those horrid things happening in that place..”

“What makes you so sure?”

“There wasn’t any single proof, Jaime..”

He almost wanted to laugh hearing her reply, the fact Tywin was her brother had been completely irrilevant. “Maybe.. I just.. I simply don’t care anymore, is it that bad?”

She sighed. “No.”

“What is that?” He asked, pointing at the frame in her hands.

“Oh, it’s nothing, nonsense.”

“Oh come on, don’t be shy.”

“It’s just.. I found this in Emmon’s office.” She said, giving the frame to him. “It’s a Polaroid.. we took it after our first official date.”

Jaime took it, looking at the pic. “Oh my, are you really my aunt Genna? What’s up with all this sentimentality?”

“Blame my old age, young man! I guess I was just surprised to find it in his office.”

He observed the pic again. His aunt was probably eighteen, wearing a pink dress, her face hidden in Emmon’s neck. “Pink?” He asked amused.

“Emmon used to call me his cotton candy.”

Jaime burst out laughing, until Genna rolled her eyes, taking the frame back. “Quit that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. it’s just, I've never seen this side of you.. it’s..”

“Pathetic?”

“Unexpected.”

Genna and Emmon had been close friends, growing up together since the age of twelve, their parents were business partners. After years of friendship, one day he had asked her out and after five thrilling minutes of reflection, she had said yes, wearing a pink dress and officially becoming his cotton candy. It hadn’t been easy, Emmon wasn’t a big fan of the Lannister family, his character and temper could hardly compare with their fierceness and Genna had always used a strong hand with him, obliging him to find a place in the company, spurring his abilities and blaming him for his ineptitude at the same time. Jaime had never really believed there could be any hint of love behind that facade.

“How was it? Your first date?” He found himself asking her.

“Oh, I was pretty nervous, I remember that.”

He chuckled. “You, nervous?”

“Well, Emmon was fucking hot back then..”

“Genna..”

“Really, there wasn’t any baldness, he was really fit and well, already dumb, that’s true, but I still had hope.”

Jaime laughed. “Where did he take you?”

“He took me in a cheap pub, I was the one with the real money, as you can imagine, but anyway, I remember I asked them to change my glass at least three times.. I was on a verge of an anaphylactic shock just looking at them.”

“That’s my aunt.”

“And then, we wandered around with his old bumpy car, I can still feel the springs of the seat up my ass.”

“Romantic.”

“I guess it was, I just didn’t want to admit it at the time. And then well.. you know..some things lead to other things..”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I'm not.”

“Genna Lannister having sex during her very first date.”

"Oh come on, we had known each other for years, I knew it was going to happen. Anyway it was my first time, that’s true, but I also knew that he would have been my last one.”

Jaime felt his throat tightening. “Did he know?”

“What?”

“Well that.. that it was your first time.”

“Of course he knew, he was dumb, but not that dumb.”

He tried to answer with a smile, but it didn’t reach his face. “Do you remember it?”

“I do. It was awkward as hell, but it was sweet too. He took care of me after, he was gentle.. I do have a happy memory.”

He swallowed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I think every woman should remember her first time with a smile on her face, despite everything.”

Jaime took a breath, escaping her aunt’s eyes.

_Will Brienne smile remembering her first time? Did I take care of her after?_

Of course he hadn't, because he had screamed at her, he had accused her to having used her virginity as a bargaining chip, the thought made him want to throw up.

He remembered when she had tried to stop him, almost like she didn’t understand his need to give her pleasure, the way she had held him after her first orgasm, he remembered the tears running down her cheeks, tears he hadn’t understood, her trembling legs around him before taking him inside.

_Was it really a lie? Every single thing, an act?_

He was scared to know the answer.

_Does she still want me?_

Maybe she had already forgotten him.

There had been smiles too at some point, and soft kisses, he hoped he wasn’t imagining them.

But then he had burdened her again with his stupid bad dreams and she had tucked her head under his chin, probably escaping from his negativity.

_I fucked up._

“Jaime? Are you there?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“The woman you want to name dumb stars with?”

Jaime sighed, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

She closed the space between them, reaching out to caress his cheek. “It’s time, Jaime.” She said, searching his eyes. “Take your life in your hands, there’s no “it’s complicated”, there are no excuses anymore.”

He nodded. "You'r right." He said, then he hugged her, grateful to have her by his side.

She was right, it was time. Time to let his demons go, to start again, to find a new job and to build a new life, hopefully with Brienne if she still wanted him.

_Brienne._

He missed her so much, he could barely say her name.

After his aunt left him, he finished his packing, filling his car with old boxes.

Before going home he had a place to go.

He went in his father’s office to take a bottle of his beloved Macallan and two glasses, then he reached his car and he drove until he could see the quiet lights of the cemetery.

It was the first time he went visiting him and maybe the last, he mused bitterly, walking until his feet stopped in front of his grave.

His father’s cold eyes seemed to judge him even from a pic, looking at him with that hint of disappointment that still made him shudder. He sat at the base of the grave, then he purred some Whiskey in the two little glasses.

“You never let me drink your Macallan, remember? You used to tell me you were waiting for the day I would have been worthy to drink a 60-year old Whiskey. I suppose the day arrived, but you’re not here to see that.” He took a sip from his glass, grimacing. “It tastes like dust.”

He sighed, resting the glass on the cold surface. “I fell in love, father. I met her one month ago, the day you died, ironic, isn’t it? Actually I'm quite sure fell in love with her ten minutes after we met. And yes, you would probably laugh at me now if you were here, you would tell me that I don’t even know what love is and I would believe you, because I’ve always believed in everything you used to say to me. But guess? You’re not here now and I can’t hear your voice anymore. I fucked up with her, with Brienne, her name is Brienne, remember it.. I fucked up because she was leading an investigation against you, can you believe that? Can you believe that you keep haunting me even from your grave? You know, I blamed you at first, I was so mad at you, I thought things went bad with her because of you, but then, I understood that it wasn’t you this time, it was me, only me. And Father, I’m tired, tired of letting you run my life, tired of letting you decide, judge. This is my life and I was the one who screwed things up with Brienne, it wasn’t you.. the fault is mine. And the fault is mine because all these years I let you repeating me I was a failure, a disappointment, that I wasn’t worthy of your fucking Whiskey and yes, at the end you never taught me what love is, but I found love the day I lost you, so maybe this means something.”

He took the glass again, clinking it against the other. “Let’s make a toast, Father, a toast to me, to my new life and to Brienne, the woman I love.” He gulped down the Whiskey left and then he spilled out the content of the other glass on the ground.

He took the bottle, standing up and ready to leave. He looked at the pic of his father for the last time.

“I forgive you.”

He said and then he left.

  


_A toast to the woman I love._

_I love her, I love Brienne._

  


It was so beautiful to keep repeating it, without feeling wrong, finally knowing its meaning. He took his phone when he stopped to a traffic light, glancing at her name on the display. He smiled, remembering how much he had struggled to know her name. He wanted to call her, his fingers ached with the need of press the button.

_Does she still want me?_

He didn’t know that, but he wanted to try. He could have gone to her now, he liked thinking they would have spent the night together after gaining her forgiveness, after turning her doubts into kisses, but Brienne deserved more than that, she deserved a proper date, she deserved the expectation, those seconds of nervousness while waiting for him, she deserved to walk hand in hand, to be called beautiful every time her eyes smiled at him, she deserved time, dedication, not rush.

And he would have waited.

A light rain started falling, beating against the car window and he remembered the night when he had run to her, dripping on her door mat and she had taken him inside; he remembered he couldn’t stop looking at her, feeling the need to having her close and when she had left him in the living room to find some dry clothes, he had followed her, unable to lose sight of her.

_She bumped into him when she turned with the clothes, not expecting to find him there. And he put his hands on her hips to steady her. She smiled, biting her lips slightly and he reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. ___

__

_“You should take that off.” She said shyly, pointing at his shirt._

__

_He tried with shaky fingers, the shirt was heavy and glued to his skin and after some hesitant seconds, she helped him, sensing his struggle. Their fingers brushed on the buttons until he stayed shirtless in front of her. She blushed, meeting his eyes, then she took a towel and started drying his skin with a commitment and a sweetness he had never experienced before._

__

_He resisted for few seconds and then he closed the space, kissing her forehead, lingering on her skin there. He felt her hands stopping on his chest, but he kept kissing her, following her hairline, stopping at her ear. “I’m.. I’m getting used to this.” He said with trembling voice._

__

_She took him in her arms again, the towel forgotten between them._

_  
_

* * *

He parked his car.

__

When he started walking toward his house, he saw someone sitting on the steps in front of the door. It was dark, except for the small porch light so he couldn’t discern who it was at first. Then he suddenly stopped and she looked up at him, removing all doubt.

__

There was a big box next to her full of things he couldn’t discern, her hair gathered in a messy ponytail, she wore a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt, but when her eyes met his he couldn’t register anything else.

__

He took a step and then another and he almost wanted to weep in relief, realizing that she was really there, that it wasn’t his delusional mind playing tricks.

__

He wanted to weep, but he held back a smile instead.

__

He didn’t say a word, once he approached her, he just fumbled with his keys to open the door, feeling the insistence of her gaze on him. He opened the door and then he couldn’t resist glancing down at her. She held his gaze with that fierceness that always betrayed a hint of kindness and he noticed the goosebumps on her arms, already cursing her in his mind for having waited for him in the cold.

__

He extended his arm toward her, she took his hand and he helped her raising up.

__

She was close, so close he could take a last step and kiss her.

__

_She deserves more._

__

He just stared at her for some seconds instead. “You’re cold.”

__

“I don’t care.” She said.

__

“I do.”

__

Then he walked in the house and she followed him inside.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from "Road trip" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.  
> Guys, please, if you have time, consider leaving a comment because it would really make a difference and would make me so happy. So what's in Brienne's box? Do you think she has forgiven his words?


	6. Thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it’s me again. I had a huge writing block, my inexistent self esteem struck again, I’m so sorry. I don’t know if you’re still interested in this story, but I don’t like to leave things unfinished so here we are with a new chapter. I really hope you like it.  
> English is not my first language, I apologise for any mistake.  
> Header by Silvia. <3

[](https://ibb.co/wMccY6j)

  


_Drying up in conversation,_

_You will be the one who cannot talk._

_All your insides fall to pieces_

_You just sit there wishing you could still make love._

* * *

  


He heard the door closing behind them, her steps following him inside. He didn’t turn, trying to process what was happening or the simple thought of having her in his house.

He didn’t want her to be cold, he thought, while trying to find a kettle; he couldn’t remember the last time he had made tea, he didn’t even like it, but she did, he had noticed plenty of teabags in her kitchen during his forbidden wanderings. Because he had always tried to find between her things what she had never put into words. He turned toward her with a mug in his hand and when he reached out to give it to her, he noticed his own fingers were slightly trembling.

“Thank you.” She said, taking the mug. She took a sip and he followed her movements with his eyes, lingering on her neck. He liked her with the hair tied up, because he liked to see her skin exposed.

She noticed his stare, hiding herself behind the rim of the mug and he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. “Why are you here?” He asked her, trying to cover the tremor in his voice.

She held his gaze for some seconds and then rested the tea on the counter. She closed the space between them, taking his hand, awkwardly, and she led him in the living room. Seeing her in his house gave him an unexpected thrill and he almost wanted to close the door and keep her there forever. He fought the urge to pull her toward him, closing his arms around her, because it was easier that way, without words.

“Could you sit down?” She said, pointing at the couch. “Please.”

He sat down, waiting for her next move.

She was nervous and he wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he would have faced anything if that meant having her in the end.

“I.. just.. ok, wait for a second, I need something.” She rambled.

He looked at her, hiding his amusement. She took the big box she had with her, carrying it in the living room and she put it in front of the couch. She sat next to it on the floor, facing him. “Ok, let’s start.” She said under her breath, crossing her legs, almost childishly.

“Brienne, there’s no need to--”

“No, please.” She said, interrupting him. “Just.. just let me talk, ok? You’ve always been the one talking, but now.. just let me talk. I owe you a story.”

“You do.” He whispered, repressing a small hint of rage still threatening their truce.

She took a breath, reaching out for something in the box. “This is Tarth.” She said, showing him the framed pic. It was one of the first things he had noticed in her apartment. “I came from there and I lived there until.. until some months ago.”

_Tarth, the sapphire island._

He almost smiled, realizing she couldn’t belong to anywhere else. “Tarth is beautiful, not only for the blue of its waters.” She said. “Tarth has these never ending meadows, pomegranates’ trees and colored houses and the sky there is different, day or night, it doesn’t matter, I’ve never seen those colors anywhere.”

“Why the moon?” He asked her, pointing at the pic.

She smiled briefly. “Because when I was little, I didn’t want to leave my house, not even for some hours, but then one day my father told me that the moon was the same every place I went, so, looking at the moon was like finding a piece of Tarth wherever I went.”

It was his turn to smile. “That’s why you took it with you?”

“It’s silly, I know.”

“It’s not.”

She glanced up at him, shyly, and for a moment it was like meeting her for the first time. She was resting on her knees now, a lock of hair had escaped from her ponytail, a faint blush covering her neck. “Go on.” He said softly, fighting an inexplicable lump in his throat.

She smiled and then took another object from the box.

“This is my best friend.”

He let out a laugh when he saw the stuffed horse.

“Don’t laugh.” She said, repressing a laugh herself. “It’s a proud horse, its name is Ser Duncan and it was really my best friend, you know.. I didn’t have many friends as a child, I was too shy, too tall, too ugly, I wasn’t really good at getting close to people or better.. I’m sure they were ashamed of having me as a friend.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what?” She said back.

He sighed, taking the animal from her hands. “Why Ser Duncan?”

“It’s from my favourite book, A knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” She explained. “Smell it.” She added some seconds later.

He frowned at her.

“Do it.” She said, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. He wanted to laugh again, wondering how he had ended up like that, ready to smell a stuffed horse in his living room, but he had the terrifying impression he would have done anything for her at that point. He sniffed the horse. “Lavender?”

She nodded.

“My mother always smelled like that. She.. she died when I was a kid.”

His breath caught in his throat and then, mindlessly, he leaned toward her, his fingers grazing the lock of hair on her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m sorry.”

“I have this last memory of her. She loved art and the day she died, she took me in this museum, because there was an exhibition of her favourite painter. She.. she showed me this painting..”

“Nuda Veritas.”

“Nuda Veritas.”

They said at the same time.

She hesitated for some seconds and he didn’t want to force her, but when she glanced up at him, he discerned something in her eyes; he realized that she was looking for a reason to keep telling him about her story and that was the final step, before the surrender. He gave her the stuffed horse back, brushing her fingers in the process and when she was about to pull away, he took her hand in his instead.

“Tell me about it.” He asked her, their fingers interlaced, hanging between them.

“Remember the bombing in Tarth?”

“That bombing?” He asked her, surprised. “I was probably an adolescent back then, but yes, I remember.. wait, was it that museum?”

She nodded, her grip tightened around his fingers. “There was a big conflict back then in Tarth.. it lasted some years. It was between Unionists and Nationalists, they fought about Tarth’s independence and well, that was the final blow, I suppose.” She swallowed and he met her eyes asking her to go on. “I.. I wasn’t with her when that happened, I was in the museum shop because I wanted a stupid pencil, while she stayed there to admire that painting. Guess that stupid pencil saved my life.”

“Well, I’m grateful to that stupid pencil.” He whispered.

He left her hand, his fingers grazing the scar on her cheek. He traced the contour with his fingertips and she closed her eyes. “No.” She said. “This scar is for another story.”

“You told me it was a bite.” She leaned into his touch for some seconds, then she moved his hand from her cheek.

She retreated, putting some distance between them. “It was.” She said, taking a badge from the box.

“I joined the police mainly because I wanted to find the responsible of that attack, I don’t know.. I guess I felt the need to give a name to my mother’s killers.”

“Vengeance?”

“Closure.” She said back. “The case had been dismissed pretty quickly after years of nothing, it was a cold case, everyone forgot about it. Once I joined the Department, I tried to make a good impression, to build trust between my superiors until I managed to reopen the case, after all that time..and you know, after months of silent investigation, re-examinated files, proof, we finally found them, well at least some of them.. but I made a mistake, I was the one finding them actually, all together, I found their hideout one night and I didn’t call for backup.”

“How many?”

“Seven.” She said.

He felt his throat tightening, a mixed feeling of admiration and worrisome, like the possibility of losing her was still threatening him. “What did you do?” He asked her.

“I fought them and I won.” She said, lowering her eyes.

He gazed her scar. “The man.. the one who..” Even talking about him, despite how distant it was, made him sick. “The one who bit you..he..”

“He’s dead.” She said. “My.. my partner arrived and killed him just in time.”

He sighed, his fingers clenched and unclenched, wanting to touch her again. “How did you end up here?”

_How did you end up turning my life upside down?_

“Well, it was like a punishment, I guess. My Chief wasn’t really happy about my behavior. He spared me a suspension, sending me here. Our Unit was twinned with King’s Landing department and they were looking for a young woman, with a good experience on the field, for an undercover mission. I was the perfect candidate, forgetting my aspect.”

“What’s wrong with your aspect?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what’s wrong with my aspect.”

“I really don’t.”

“They were kinda disappointed when they saw me in person, I had to play a go-go girl, I guess they expected me to be more attractive, you know, sexy..sensual somehow. They trained me to lure men, seduce them, play their game.”

“What happened there?”

“They clearly weren’t there just to see women dancing. The department had been investigating that Club for months, as you said, everybody knew about Aerys’ illegal activities and the Club was one of his best investments.”

“What about my father?”

She took a breath, probably trying to find the right words.

“Just tell me, it’s ok. He’s gone.”

“He made a deal with Aerys. He took advantage of his influence and power to cover those activities and Aerys helped him preventing the failure of the company in exchange.”

“Did it work?”

“At the beginning, yes, until the first complaint came and then another and so on, at that point they knew about the second activity the Club offered. There was.. there was a room on the back where clients could spend some time with their favourite girls and--”

“You never did that, right?” He asked her, almost breathless. “They.. they never touched you?”

“No.” She whispered and he sighed, his eyes fixed on her. “I.. I used my lack of sensuality that way, sometimes not being attractive has its benefits.” She said bitterly. “They never asked for me that way, but I could observe everything happening and try to prevent it.”

“Your lack of sensuality?”

She chuckled. “Well, I was horrible around that pole.. I was totally-”

“Awkward and a little clumsy too.. totally clumsy.”

She lowered her eyes, hiding a small hint of disappointment. “Yes.”

“And yet when I entered in that Club, I couldn’t look at anyone else.” He added.

She blushed, glancing shyly at him. “You weren’t in the plans. You.. we knew you weren’t involved. And when you approached me that night, I.. I immediately recognized you and I tried to keep you away, I really tried, believe me, even if a small voice inside me kept telling me that I should have used the opportunity, because that was my work after all and you could have been useful. But then..”

“Then what?” He asked her, his voice trembling.

“Nobody has ever looked at me the way you did.. the way you do.”

“What way is that?”

“I don’t know..like.. like I was a vision.” She whispered, glancing down.

He was speechless at her words, because it was exactly how he felt, because every time he looked at her, he wondered how life had put them in the same path, how someone so strangely perfect could gravitate in his orbit, wanting to close the distance between them. And now hearing her story, putting together the pieces like a never ending puzzle, he couldn’t pretend anymore that her presence wasn’t real, inventing alternative versions of her story, he could only hope to be worthy, to deserve her confession, a place in her life.

“And then you punched Connington for me and I stupidly took you in my apartment.. and then.. I lost control.. and the more you kept looking at me, the more I.. the more I wanted you.”

“You could have had me that night.”

“But there was a knock at the door, remember? My Chief wanted an updating about the case. I can’t believe I really hid you in my room.”

“I liked being hidden in your room, it made me feel yours.”

She blushed adorably. “And then..”

“And then you kissed me.” He said, teasing her.

“Actually you were the one kissing me.”

“I was and I was ready to disappear a second after and never see you again, but then you.. you kissed me back.”

“Yeah, sorry for that.”

He chuckled. “Are you really apologising for that?”

She stood up, abruptly, and he feared of having told something to upset her. She turned her back to him, hugging herself. “Did you.. did you like it?” She asked him in a whisper.

He frowned, standing up. “What?”

“Did you.. did you like kissing me? Making love, I mean, sex with me? You.. you said some horrible stuff and..”

He rested his hand on the small of her back, then caressed her until his fingers curled on her shoulder.

“Brienne.. you should have told me.”

She turned slightly, frowning at him.

“I should have known.”

“You should have known?” She repeated softly.

“Yes.”

“I need some air.” She said, dismissing his touch.

She went outside and he followed her. She paced on his porch, breathing deeply. There was a storm coming, the sky already thundering and he loved the way the wind was playing with her hair. She turned then, facing him and he noticed her eyes were glassy. “You would have left.”

“What?”

“If.. If you had known about my virginity, you..”

“What? No.”

“I’ve been selfish not telling you that..you would have probably come to your senses realizing your mistake, realizing I was just a warm body you needed to comfort yourself, that I wasn’t good or pretty enough..”

He closed the distance between them. “Do you really think that?”

“How could you want me?”

He almost smiled at her stubbornness, cupping her cheek. “Brienne, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for everything I said to you that night.. I.. I shouldn’t have, I was angry, I was barely myself and I apologise for that. If I had known about that.. you should have told me because I would have been gentler, God Brienne, you deserved so much better, I was selfish and it was desperate..”

“It was perfect.”

“No, it wasn’t. I should have taken care of you after and I should have been gentler.. I should-”

“I didn’t want gentleness Jaime, I just wanted you.”

He cupped her other cheek, framing her face. He looked at her, mesmerized by the tears dancing in her eyes. He caressed her skin with his thumbs, a sense of relief warming his chest. She circled his wrists. “I spent the last month asking myself why me?”

He smiled, tilting her face toward him. “I met a lot of women Brienne and I met a lot of eyes.. but I only got lost in yours.”

A little tear escaped from her eyes and he brushed it away. “My mum.. she told me that one day I would have found someone who would have looked at me in the eyes and found out the truth I carried with me..” She smiled softly. “And that he would.. he would have fallen in love with me just looking at my eyes.”

“Your mother was right.” He said, just before pressing his lips against hers, kissing her last doubts away. He tried to be gentle and it worked at the beginning, but when she opened her mouth, moaning against his lips, he panted against her, following her tongue, sucking her bottom lip, whimpering at the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

The rain was falling hard, wetting them gently through the rattan roof of the porch, the blue curtains covering the side wall started moving messily around, scattered by the wind. He felt drops of water on her face, on her lashes that were brushing his skin, but he didn’t want to stop, the never ending wait of the past month was tarnishing his sense.

“We should..” He said against her lips, while his hand travelled under her t-shirt, finding a familiar warmth. “We should get inside.”

“Yes.” She said, while her fingers started unlacing the buttons of his shirt. She kissed his jaw and sucked at the pulse point on his neck. He moaned, transfixed by her impatience, burying his fingers in her hair. He put some distance between them, looking at her and breathing heavily. She retreated and he followed her, not leaving her eyes, his fingers still in her hair. She stopped when her body hit the table behind them. There was a drop on her chin and he closed the distance, sucking it.

“I wanted this to be sweet, it’s not working really well, is it?” He said while taking her t-shirt off. She mimicked him, doing the same with his.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath and her nipples stiffened even more under his gaze. His tongue licked the small drops he found there, tasting the rain on her, until his lips closed around her nipple, sucking it softly. He kissed every inch of her chest then, reverently, following the drops’ scheme on her skin, like a brand new constellation. It became more frantic when they removed each other’s pants, while the thunderstorm grew louder around them. She was standing in underwear in front of him, there were goosebumps on her arms and he was about to find the strength to take her inside, because he didn’t want her to be cold, when she surprised him, kissing him again, flattening her chest against his, his erection pressed against her. Her fingers slid inside his boxer and she removed them while he did the same with her panties. He knelt on the floor then, taking her with him. He sat on the damp marble and she straddled his hips.

He lost himself in the storm he found in her eyes, a mirror of his own desire.

He loosened her ponytail, caressing her locks. “I wanted you, every single day.” He said, nudging at her entrance with his erection; she was wet and he sighed at the sensation. “I couldn’t wait to go to bed, close my eyes and pretend to be with you.” 

She kissed him and without other words she took him inside. They both moaned at the feeling and he searched her face to see any sign of discomfort or pain. He caressed her cheeks, her brows, her eyes using his lips and when she was about to move, he stopped her hips. “Have you forgiven me?” She shifted in his lap, but he stopped her again. “Don’t move.” He whispered, the rain wetting them. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her smell and she hugged him, welcoming his closeness. “It wasn’t sex, it’s never been just sex.” He said.

She tightened her arms around him.

He breathed hard against her skin. “Tell me you’ve forgiven me.”

She sighed. “I..”

“Please.”

“I forgave you the moment I saw you again... I was there behind that mirror, during the interrogation.” She said after some seconds, against his hair. “I wanted to break it into million pieces and reach you.”

He raised his head from her neck, looking at her. “I knew you were there.”

He started moving her hips then, slowly, watching her expression changing, her brows arching in pleasure. He gripped her hips harder and she put her hands on his shoulders, taking control of her movements. He moaned when she quickened her pace, her knees pressed on the floor to have more leverage. Drops of rain fell again on her breasts and he licked them away, waiting for new ones to fall. One of her hand gripped his hair, tilting his face toward her to make him look at her and he held her gaze, her moans covered only by the sound of the thunders. One of his hand was still anchored on her hip, while the other wandered on her body, caressing every inch. He palmed her buttocks, then her back, tracing her spine with his nails, adding goosebumps to the rain drops. His caresses shifted to her front and she arched her back when he found her breasts, pinching softly her nipples and almost regretting his gesture, because he missed her closeness immediately. He pushed her in his arms again, thrusting up inside her. She panted against his mouth and he felt his heart melting inside him. When their thrusts became frantic, she closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed, and he traced her lips with his fingers, trying to make her open her eyes again. She sucked his fingers, adding a wave of pleasure to his bliss. He wanted to tell her to slow down because he was too close, while he needed this to never end, but when he saw the pleasure in her eyes, he felt the urge to give her more and he reached out, finding her clit with his fingertips. She brushed it against them, resting her forehead against his, he kissed her hairline finding rain and sweat until she came, her moans muffled by his neck.

He followed her seconds later.

They stayed in each other’s arms for minutes, listening to the quiet rain replacing the thunderstorm. He kissed her forehead then to call her attention.

“What happens now?” She asked him, smiling shyly.

“Now let me take care of you.” He said, moving her hair from her face.

“There’s no need.”

“I want to.”

“Well, I’m not sure I can move from here, I can’t feel my knees anymore.” She said and he chuckled, kissing her lips twice.

“Stand up.” He said softly. She did, standing in front of him. He took some time to admire her body, feeling a new desire already stirring inside him. He kissed her knees, bruised by the friction, then her thighs, feeling her fingers in his hair. He looked up at her then, holding her gaze and kissing her pussy, she tightened her grip when he licked her slit. He fought the urge to do it again, without betraying his intent to soothe her and he raised up, kissing her belly, her breasts until he was standing in front of her.

“Hi.” He said, kissing her lips.

“Hi” She said back, smiling.

He picked her panties from the floor, giving them to her and wearing his boxer; when he saw she was about to put her t-shirt on, he stopped her. “Take mine.” He said hoarsely.

“It won’t fit.” She said.

He ignored her protests, helping her with his shirt. “It’s perfect.” He said, grabbing the lapels to pull her closer until his lips found hers again. She linked her arms around his neck, prolonging his kiss, and for the first time in his life he had the certainty to belong to someone.

He wanted to tell her he had fallen in love with her, but he couldn’t find the right words.

“Lay down there.” He said to her instead, pointing at the couch under the porch. “I’ll be back, let me find a blanket or something.”

“Ok.”

He entered in his house, without bothering to hide the stupid smile on his face, wandering like a stranger, hitting furniture in the process like a drunken fool. He took a bottle of water, but he couldn’t find a single blanket; he decided to grab a white table cloth from the kitchen instead.

She laughed the moment he went out. “It’s a table cloth.”

He shrugged, pretending indignation. “It’s linen.”

Her laughter intensified and he gave her the bottle of water. She drank while he lay down next to her, covering them both with the table cloth. She cuddled next to him, her cheek resting on his heart. “Why didn’t we make love here instead of the floor?” She asked him.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager, I followed your instincts.”

“Shut up.” She said, hitting his chest. He laughed, turning them, flattening her body on the couch and covering it with his own. She was about to protest when he kissed her. Every time the kissing stopped, she tried to speak, but he kissed her again and again.

They ended up making love twice under the table cloth.

He took care of her after every single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning is from the song "High and Dry" by Radiohead. A short epilogue will follow, please let me know if you liked it, it really means the world when you leave a comment. Thank you.


	7. Nuda Veritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue, as promised. I have to say that I’m proud to have finished this story, it was born as one shot and well, here we are with seven chapters. I hope it was a pleasant journey. I want to thank all of you for the support, not being English, I have many moments of insecurity and I often ask myself why I keep trying to write in a language that is not mine. Every single comment you have made, has meant the world to me and it has made me want to keep writing.  
> Enjoy last chapter, warning: it’s pure FLUFF, I'm sorry.  
> (sorry for any mistake, I'm not feeling great right now.)  
> Header by Silvia. <3

[](https://ibb.co/wJsWffc)

  


_Do you think you can carry me over this threshold,_

_Over and over again into oblivion?_

* * *

  


They went inside some hours later, he didn’t know what time it was.

The rain had stopped, the sky was now clean and full of stars. She kept the table cloth wrapped around her, the rim touching the floor at every step she made and he held back a smile, watching her wander around his house, looking like an errant knight with her white cloak. He had absolutely no doubt she would have been a knight in another universe and he would have been happy to be her damsel in distress. She would have saved him from a dragon or some other weird creature, the same way she had already saved him from himself.

She was making them some tea to warm up after the hours spent outside, under the thunderstorm, and he kept looking at her from his couch, wanting to save every detail of her presence in his house; her hair was more curly than usual due to the humidity and it stuck out messily, he could take a glimpse of her bare legs between the cloth, under the light and they seemed even longer, paler and then her hands, he focused on her hands, she was still a little bit graceless in her movements, but her hands were harmonious, firm and delicate at the same time. When she moved a little too quickly, losing her fake cloak, she knelt, snorting impatiently, to take it back and he smiled, taking a peek at her cleavage and sighing loudly.

He wanted her again.

“Stop ogling me.” She said shyly from the kitchen.

“Can’t I?” He asked her smugly. “I love watching you.”

She blushed, rolling her eyes and he smiled again, wondering how many time he would have needed to tell her that.

Probably until she would have believed him.

While she was busy with the tea, his eyes found the open box that was still on the floor. He looked inside, noticing a smaller one and a piece of paper. He reached out, curious, to take it in his hands.

“No way.” He said out loud, reading it.

She turned to look at him. “Wait no, give me that back!” She said, eyes wide, walking toward him.

He laughed, moving away the paper every time she tried to reach it.

“Jaime.”

“Brienne.” He said softly. “You kept it!"

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” She said annoyed. “That was my last shot if things.. I mean, if you hadn’t forgiven me.”

He smiled, caressing the paper. “You kept the sheet of paper with my number, that’s sweet.”

“Shut up.”

“No, but that’s so sweet, I’m going to frame this.”

She laughed, trying to take the piece of paper from his hands. “Quit that!” She said, but she was still smiling.

He took the frame on the side table. “Oh, this is my aunt Genna by the way, meet her.” He said, showing her the pic, before removing it from the frame. It was a pic of him and Genna taken the day of her seventieth birthday.

“Jaime!”

“She could kill me for this. Forgive me, Genna.” He said seriously, then he replaced the pic with the paper. “Ah, here we are, look how cute!” He said proudly. “We should hang this.”

“We really shouldn’t.”

He ignored her. “When it all started.” He said dreamily. “I’m going to hang it so you can have your first item in your new house.”

She stilled at that. “My new house?”

He frowned at her. “Well, of course, I thought it was obvious, we have wasted too much time already.”

She bit her lips to hold back a smile. “Are you asking me to come living with you, Jaime?”

He stood up, frame in hand, closing the distance between them. “I think I am.” He said, a hint of nervousness, his fingers playing with the collar of her shirt.

“Jaime, my assignment here is over, I.. I have one month vacation, but then I should come back home, in Tarth.” She said, staring at him.

There was so much sweetness in her eyes, he would have happily drowned in them.

He swallowed, trying to hold back the need in his voice. “Can I come with you?” He asked her at the end. She closed her fingers around his wrist in response, his hand still gripping her collar. “I have no job, I need to start over. I.. I would love to start over with you, in Tarth.”

Her eyes became bigger and she nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’d love to.” She whispered.

“Then I guess we’ll hang this in our new house in Tarth, don’t you think?”

She worried at her lips with her teeth. “I think it’s ok.”

“Am I rushing things?” He suddenly asked. "Yes, I’m terrifying you.”

She took his face in her hands and she kissed him, while his arms circled her body, pulling her against him. “A little bit.” She said, laughing.

“Then we can see how things will go here, during this vacation month and then.. I mean, if you still want me, we could..”

“What will you do in Tarth?” She asked him against his lips, interrupting him.

He sighed in relief. “I don’t know.. whatever, really. I used to write.” He blurted out.

“Really?”

“When I was a kid, my father forced me to write things, mostly sentences on repeat, on a little notebook. It would have helped my dyslexia, or that was what he kept telling me. I hated it at the beginning, until I started writing things I wanted, I still do that sometimes.”

“I like it.” She said, impressed.

“Or.. I could open a restaurant.” He said out of the blue.

She pulled back. “A restaurant?” She asked, laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I’ve always wanted to do that, a little restaurant on the beach, seafood and candles.”

“Seems lovely.”

“You know what else seems lovely?” He asked her. “That little box inside the big one, I wonder what there’s inside.”

She ended the embrace, reaching immediately for the box, anticipating him. “Oh, this one is nothing.” She said nonchalantly. “I don’t even know how it ended up in here.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He said, even if it sounded a little bit as a paradox, considering how she had pretended to be someone else during their first week together. “What is it? Come on.”

“I.. ok this is a thing that.. look, I've taken it a little too far, really.. you shouldn’t.. I mean, it’s something that made me think of you, but I've clearly overstepped the limits, it’s silly, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckled, lost in her rambling speech. “You’re blushing so hard, God, if I were a wrecked ship, I would want you as my lighthouse.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you already starting your writing career?”

“What is it, my lighthouse?”

She snorted, while her eyes softened. “Ok look, remember that night when you told me you had dreamed of me?”

He furrowed his brows. “How can I forget that night?”

“Well, you told me we were looking at the stars, in the dream I mean..and.. ok, open it.” She said, giving it to him, sounding exasperated with herself.

He took the box, almost reverently, feeling his beating accelerating, he didn’t know why. He opened the box and he almost wanted to cry when he found out what was inside.

Astronomy binoculars.

“Brienne..” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. When he looked up at her, he found out she had covered her face with a pillow and the image made him smile.

“Hey.” He said softly, trying to take the pillow from her hands.

“It’s pathetic.” She said, peeking at him from the pillow.

“It’s beautiful.” He said, out of breath, moving the pillow from her face. “It’s.. we should use them right now.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

  


It seemed that they belonged to the night, he mused while positioning the table cloth on the terrace, under the stars. A part of him would have wanted to leave his house the next day, take the first flight to Tarth and embrace his new life with her, while another one was almost sad, faced with the prospect of leaving his apartment, and consequently, his porch and terrace now that he had finally made memories that were worthy to be remembered.

_That table cloth will come to Tarth._

They spent the first minutes giving absurd names to the stars; she was in his arms, their cheeks pressed together while they shared the binoculars, one lens each. She called one ‘Oathkeeper’, remembering her family dog, he called a group of them ‘freckles’, hinting at the new obsession he was developing for the ones he had found on her thighs. She burst out laughing when he called a star ‘Arturo’, after the goose he had as a kid and that had dramatically become the Christmas’ lunch ten years later. When he felt her leg curling around his, while her cheeks were red for the effort and her smiling eyes put the stars to shame, lost in her, he decided he was tired of waiting, tired of looking for the right words. He felt the heart hammering in his chest while he pointed the binoculars toward a group of bright stars and she followed his movements. “Look at that.” He whispered, a light tremor in his voice. “Do you know how it’s called?”

She pretended to think about it. “I don’t, how is it called?”

He took a breath, tightening his grip around her body, then his lips brushed her ear. “It’s called ‘I fell in love with you but I can’t find the right words to tell you’.”

She stilled next to him, then she lowered the binoculars, looking at him, her eyes wide. “Jaime..”

He raised the binoculars again, putting them in front of her eyes. “And the one next to it, the smallest one that shines so stubbornly bright, do you see it? That one is called “No, I’m not kidding, before you ask me, I’m madly in love with you, I love you and I think I’ll never stop loving you.”

She found his eyes again, her chin started wobbling.

He grinned and she smiled shyly. He pressed his lips against hers. “I love you.” He told her another time.

They made love again, under the stars they had just named together.This time his body covered hers, her legs wrapped around his hips, tightening at every thrust, their fingers interlaced on the white cloth. He had kept telling her nonsenses until she had flattened her free palm on his mouth and he had smiled against her fingers.

He had looked at her during the whole act, without losing her eyes, not even for a second.

He had come ridiculously quick for that reason, chanting words of love that had never seemed enough and when she hadn’t followed him seconds later, he had pulled away in a blink, giving her pleasure with his mouth instead, the same words of love now whispered against her core, alternated with her moans of pleasure.

When she had started trembling under his lips, he had pushed her more against his mouth and she had been lost.

  


_One month later._

They were ready to leave for Tarth the next day. They had agreed to live in her old apartment for a brief period and start looking for a new one in the meantime. He was thrilled to meet her father, their only encounter had been through phone when Selwyn had made things pretty clear after a few seconds of conversation, _if you break her heart, I’m gonna break your legs, son._

Somehow the term of endearment had made the threat bearable and not so scaring. He had asked her out that night because he wanted to surprise her for a last time, before leaving the city.

He looked at her in front of the mirror, she was fixing her hair because he had told her to keep it tied, a simple excuse to have access to her neck every time he needed it. She was wearing a long floral dress, informal but pretty and he loved how confident she seemed, wearing it.

“I’m ready.” She said, smiling. He approached her and without a word, he put her sleep mask on her eyes.

“Jaime?”

“Wear it until I tell you, ok?”

“Where are you taking me?”

  


It hadn’t been easy, he had waited for weeks before having the chance of taking her there.

One of the only positive thing his father had left him were acquaintances and he had taken advantage of that with the only purpose to put a smile on her face.

When he led her in the building, open just for them, his palm flat on her back, her steps tentative, but strengthened by the smile on her face, Jaime just hoped not to have taken this too far. The place was dark, except for the room where he was taking her. There was a faint smell of acid and alcohol in the air and she wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“What’s this smell?”

“Just walk, you’re almost there.” He whispered in her ear.

A few steps later they stopped and he suddenly felt nervous. “Ok, I’m going to take your mask off, but don’t open your eyes yet, please.”

“Ok.” She said calmly.

He removed the sleep mask and then put his arms around her body. He embraced her, burying his face in her neck and sighing against her skin. “Jaime?”

“Yes.” He said, raising his face. “Ok, look, I planned this, hoping it was a good thing, now I’m not sure anymore. If you.. if you hate it, please tell me, we can leave immediately.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Open your eyes.” He said.

She did.

Her gasp made him tighten his arms around her.

“Breathe.” He whispered in her ear.

In front of them there was a painting, her painting, _Nuda Veritas_ , the original one. He had asked her about it a week after they got together, she had told him the painting got lost during the bombing, probably stolen by some thieves that had taken advantage of the situation. It had wandered between illegal art traffics for years until the police had found it, some months before, during a raid. Once found, the painting had been left it in the expert hands of the best restorer in King’s Landing, Professor Tully, an old acquaintance of his family.

“Jaime.”

He saw tears running down her face and for a moment he regretted his idea, cursing his shallowness, but then she turned her face toward him, kissing him senselessly.

He tasted her tears, their kiss was salty, but the urgency of her hands on his cheeks was sweet.

She pulled back, smiling shyly and then she looked at the painting again. “How did you do it?” She asked him, her voice trembling.

He kissed her temple, flattening his cheek against hers. “I know the restorer, he’s an old family’s friend.. I just, I gave it a shot, I honestly didn’t think it would have worked. I told Tully your story and he was impressed..I guess.. who’s not impressed by you, I wonder and well, he told me the restoration was well under way and that I could take you here when I wanted.”

“I.. this is.. look how beautiful it is!” She said, repressing a sob. “Look at the mirror, you can almost see an eye reflected there.. it’s so intimate, just.. I don’t know what to say, sorry.” She said in a whisper.

He loved her enthusiasm. “Just say that I didn’t mess this up?”

“How? You.. this is perfect and overwhelming, you are overwhelming.”

“Am I?” He asked her teasingly. “So if I ask you to marry me right now, what would you answer me?”

She laughed hysterically. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ask me this again in.. let’s say five months at least.”

“Five? Three.”

“Jaime!”

“Two? I could marry you over and over again.”

“Once is enough.” She said against his lips.

He groaned, biting her lip.

“You know that I’ll spend at least an hour in this room, right?” She told him.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” He said. “Do you want to stay alone for a little bit?”

“Actually yes.. you don’t mind?” She asked him.

“Of course, no.” He said, kissing her nose. “I’ll wait for you in the hall, ok?”

“Thanks.”

He left reluctantly her embrace, walking toward the exit.

Once he reached the hall, he turned, spying on her from there; the lit painting was creating a halo around her, bringing out her body in the dark. She seemed an angel fallen from the frame. She was moving her hands in the air and he could hear distant sounds coming from the room. He was pretty sure she was talking with her mother. His heart tightened in his chest while he leaned his head against the wall, feeling guilty because he was intruding in her moment, but too addicted to look away. She raised her hand toward her mouth and she blew a kiss to the painting.

He felt his own eyes becoming lucid.

He wondered if one day she would have let him write her story.

Then she turned, catching him watching her.

“I love you.” She said aloud, her words echoed in the empty room.

He smiled and a tear fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning is from "Oblivions" by The National.  
> I hope it was a satisfying ending, please, let me know and no, I’m not done with them. More stories soon, I hope to find you here. X

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from a Placebo's song called "Every you Every me."  
> "Nuda Veritas" is a painting made by Gustav Klimt in 1899. There are two versions of this painting, the quote in this story is from the very first version which is a lithography. Nuda Veritas means Naked Truth.  
> For the first meeting between them I took inspiration from the movie "Closer" by Mike Nichols .  
> So, what do you think? Do you want more?  
> Please, let me know, it would mean the world. X


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